


Round of Love and Death

by Daniellecluck



Series: Elisabeth das Musical AU [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety, Bittersweet, Brief but tagging just in case, But also, But also short haired victor, Elisabeth au, Fluff, I feel like this is far lighter than I make it seem, Im making this as happy as an elisabeth au can possibly be, In parts and, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, Look all im saying is dont worry about the death warning tag too much, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Romance, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural Elements, The Gangs All Here, but also major character, but you may not, comma death haha, hence the bittersweet tag, i personally consider this to have a happy ending, mostly from yurio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-09-26 04:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9862571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daniellecluck/pseuds/Daniellecluck
Summary: Whether he likes it or not, Death will always be a looming presence in Yuuri's life. Looming, watching,  and ever so infatuated. So goes the round of love and death.Or Victor is Death personified and lovestruck, and Yuuri has to deal with it. Romance ensues.Very loosely based on Elisabeth das Musical





	1. Prolog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp First thing I've ever written or published and of course it would be Yuri on Ice related. This is unbeta'd but here this is anyway.  
> Side note, if you've ever seen Elisabeth this will deviate significantly but stay true to the base story. I'm making this as happy as I absolutely can for something with actual Death in it. I hate straight up angst tbh especially non happy ending angst.  
> You also dont have to know what Elisabeth is to get this.  
> Chapter titles are taken from the German musical.

A bright light blares onto Yurio’s face coming from a lamp on the table he’s sitting under. He squints to make out what’s in front of him but is met only by a white abyss. _The hell kind of lamp is this,_ he thinks, _I can’t see shit._ He tries to stand up but seems to be frozen (handcuffed?) to a chair. Voices boom around him in unison coming from nowhere in particular and yet everywhere at once.

_Why Plisetsky?_

_Ah this interrogation again,_ the blonde teen thinks. “If you’ve come to stop me you’re too late, it already happened. It’s done. Get over it.”

_But why, Yuri Plisetsky. Why did you steal the skating legend Yuuri Katsuki from the world?_

He scowls towards the direction he thinks the voices are coming from. _Ugh, Katsudon._ He scoffs to himself. They never ask what he’s been up to or how he’s going. It’s always _always_ about Katsudon. 

Yuuri Katsuki. Three time consecutive Grand Prix Final winner. Golden Olympian. World champion. Japan’s Pride. Poster child for successfully living with and managing mental illness. The guy that once adopted six stray dogs on a whim, realized he had no room for said dogs in an apartment, then promptly raised funds for a shelter to be built next door. 

“Is that what they’re calling it now?” He asks, “Stealing? Fine. Whatever. Actually that’s great, let me be hated as the man who stole him from you all.”

_This is a serious matter. Answer us, Plisetsky._

Yurio spits at his interrogators. “Fuck off,” he adds a crude jester flicking his hand from under his chin for good measure. “Why don’t you come up with new questions. What good is this interrogation anyway; it’s always the same stuff with you guys.”

_Your reasons, Plisetsky!_

The voices are more demanding now. Yurio swears they even increase the intensity of the interrogation lamp. It makes his eyes water. He’s hungry. So hungry. He just wants to leave. Maybe eat piroshki or some shit. His stomach growls. They act like he doesn’t have better things to do than talk about Yuuri fucking Katsuki. Fine, whatever. He’ll play along this time if that’s what they want. If that’s what gets him out of here faster.

“They wanted it okay.” He mumbles what he knows to be the absolute truth. “Those idiots would never say it outloud, but they’ve both wanted it for years now! Death and his stupid groom.” He's so sick of this interrogation. He’s gone through it all before, but they’ll never leave him be. He bites down on his lip. He’s not crying, he’s not. It’s just the stupid lamp. He would never let himself cry. Not here and especially not over those two idiots. 

 

Tearing his gaze away from the ever blinding light, he's just in time to see the man with bright silver hair and a long dark coat seemingly poof into existence next to him. Great, Yurio thinks. As if I needed his presence here now of all times. Yurio knows the man’s probably been listening to this whole interrogation from the start, just now deciding to make his physical presence known. If his interrogators notice the sudden new addition to their party, they say nothing. It’s fine, he didn’t expect them to. The man walks over and plops himself down on the table in front of Yurio. Humming an unknown tune to himself, he sits one leg crossed over the other and sways his foot back and forth as if he’s actually content to be here. He probably is. Yurio directs his scowl toward him now.

“Yuur-io,” the man draws out his name, voice much softer than the interrogators hiding behind the light. “Who are you even talking to? Stop mumbling. You know you have to speak up if you actually want to be heard.”

_Of course he’d show up here now._ He thinks. He doesn’t have time for any of this, and especially not for him. “This is none of your business, old man.” Yurio moves to kick the man in his shins which are currently dangling off the table side. He misses. Of course he misses. No one can hurt ‘his all-mighty Majesty, Death’. Well, almost no one. Death easily dodges his pathetic attempt at a kick by simply sliding down the table half a meter in the blink of an eye. He grumbles something about not being an ‘old man’ and not looking a day over twenty-eight. “Bug off,” Yurio mutters as an afterthought.

Death squints at Yurio for a second as if contemplating the situation. He presses a gloved finger to his lip and leans in far too close for comfort. He backs away as far as his chair will allow him. Death’s piercing blue eyes stand out in contrast to the rest of his significantly darker getup. It puts Yurio on edge.

“Oh!” Death gasps, a heart shaped smile now filling his face. “You’re telling _our_ story again, aren’t you? This is my all-time favorite story! Of course, no one ever really wants to tell me stories anyway so it’s not like I have a lot to choose from, but that’s beside the point now isn’t it. Can I stay and listen?”

“I said bug off, old man” He retorts. “Why don’t you go bother someone else?"

Death’s shoulders sink, and he pouts. “You know I can’t do that. They can’t _see_ me like you can.”

_Stop lying and stop dodging the question, Plisetsky. We’re not asking for fairy tales. We need the truth._

Yurio’s startled as the voice returns in full force. He’d forgotten for a second that he wasn’t alone in here. For a second, he's almost thankful. He can’t stand talking to the old man alone for more than a few minutes at a time.

“I never lied!” He snaps back confidence ringing in his voice, “At least not here. I told you my reasons already, now let me go! 

“Yurio,” Death barges back into the conversation whining like a child. “You know I hate being ignored, but I can leave if that's really what you want.”

Yurio knows he won’t really leave, at least not without whining about it some more first. He chooses to continue ignoring the old man.

_The motive?_

His interrogators rephrase practically the same question. _Why, why, why._ He doesn’t know what they want to hear. They don’t appear to care about the truth. They never do.

Yurio sighs. _I guess I’m really telling this again._ It doesn’t matter what he says at this point, telling the whole thing is the only way to ever make them stop. Might as well give ‘em a show. Maybe that’ll make it less boring this time around. “The motive? True love,” he confesses, “And a disgustingly grand one at that. Death. And his stupid groom Yuuri Katsuki.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated, thanks! I think most chapters will be slightly longer than this first prologue one.
> 
> Over on tumblr here  
> [here](http://cgcoconutgun.tumblr.com) If ya want that.


	2. Kein Kommen Ohne Gehen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri dabbles in ice skating and ballet for the first time.

Yu-topia was bustling with the daily morning routine that comes with running an inn. Toshiya Katsuki was checking out the few guests that had decided to end their vacation on a snowy Wednesday morning. Hiroko Katsuki was frying eggs and rice and scrambling to get her kids in order. A shout rang throughout the inn, the two kids no doubt the source of it.

“Mari, would you mind taking Yuuri out to shovel snow with you?” Hiroko called out. “It’d give you both a chance to work out all that energy you both have pent up.” She received a groan in response. “We have sleeping guests, you know,” Hirako pointed out. The door leading to the kitchen swung open as the sixteen year old trudged in, her younger brother clung desperately to her leg. 

“Mom, that’s not fair,” Mari argued shaking Yuuri off in the process. “I only yelled 'cause Yuuri won’t leave me be. He keeps pulling my hair for fucks sake.”

“Language.” Hiroko chastised with a harsh frown. Mari slouched, embarrassed for her slip up. 

_Embarrassed she got caught._ Yuuri thought.

“Mom,” he butted in, standing up as tall as his chubby and short nine year old body allowed him. “Mari promised to take me ice skating today, but now she’s going out with friends, and that’s not fair!”

Mari muttered something about it not being her fault he didn’t have any friends. This was obviously a matter of the utmost importance, and Hiroko would surely understand this and take his side.

“Yuuri,” Hiroko smiled warmly. Yuuri always had somewhere he wanted to go. If it wasn’t the ice rink today it’d be something else tomorrow. “I remember this conversation, and Mari specifically said she would take you ice skating when Vicchan grew wings and flew around the house.”

 _Betrayal._ He frowned. “It was a metaphor,” Yuuri stated because of course it was. He wasn’t lying. He probably wasn’t lying. His mother didn’t have to know he was lying.

“Yuuri,” More stern this time. His mother knew he was lying. “Tell you this, if you and Mari have a path shoveled by noon, I’ll see if Minako has time to take you to the rink, okay?”

“And I’m still being punished for this, why?” Mari scoffed. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

He didn’t wait around for her to be answered. He scrambled past her, out the kitchen and grabbed the nearest snow shovel that was by the front door. He didn’t bother putting proper boots on, not that his old boots would be useful if he had. They were ripped, didn’t fit quite right, and leaked water. _Oh well,_ it didn’t snow much in Hasetsu anyway. No point in bothering his parents by asking them to buy something he’d rarely use, especially when the winter season was almost up. 

He thrust open the front door. He could get this done before noon all by himself. He didn’t need Mari’s help.

* * *

He ended up needing Mari’s help.

* * *

Ice Castle Hasetsu wasn’t packed; there was just a skater here and there, but it was not packed. Or, as Mari had put it, most people, unlike Yuuri, had better things to do than skate on a freezing Wednesday morning. Like get into car accidents and cause a twenty minute jump in traffic on the only main road to Ice Castle Hasetsu. Apparently, no one in Hasetsu knew how to drive in more than four centimeters of snow, according to Minako. Yuuri personally didn’t care that almost no one was at the rink. It was better this way. With fewer people around, he didn’t have to be as self conscious and could show off his amazing jumps, flips, and spins for his friend Yuuko. He wanted to be just like the skaters he discovered on TV last year. Even though no one skater stood out in particular, they'd all looked nice.

He fell flat on his pudgy stomach on his first, second, and third attempt. He couldn’t do any jumps, flips, or spins. Yuuko laughed at him. He rubbed at his arm, red-faced.

“It’s fine, Yuuri,” She said in between giggles. “You’re still nine years old, single digit, so it’s normal that you can’t do more advanced stuff like I can.” She did a small spin on the ice. Neither of her feet left the ground at any point in time. “That was a quadruple flip.” She states as a fact.

“Woah!” Yuuri gawked. Yuuko was amazing. 

“Hey, did you hear the people in that accident this morning had to be rushed to the hospital?” Yuuko chimed as she skated circles around Yuuri only half paying attention to where she skated. “I hope they’re okay... You know? Actually, I think I’m going to go and check the news to see if there’s any updates. It’d be terrible if the-”

He stopped listening at this point. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to cling onto every word that Yuuko said because he did, she was amazing. But, at this point in time, he didn’t want to cling onto every word Yuuko said. He’d found something, someone, even more amazing. On the other side of the rink, a man with long bright silver hair tied back in a ponytail danced on the ice alone. He couldn’t call it skating, even though he wanted to argue it technically was, since they were, technically, on ice. But the man wasn’t even wearing skates. Yuuri very clearly saw his dark boots gliding without making so much as a scratch on the ice. The man reached out toward no one whilst performing his routine. Face solemn and eyes closed. _He must be a professional,_ Yuuri thought. _But what’s he doing here?_

The man bent down slightly at the knees, sprang up into the air, and did one, two, three, four rotations before he landed back on one boot. Despite his usual fear of strangers, Yuuri made a resolve to talk to him. Maybe get an autograph because he had to be a professional skater; he just had to be. He skated over to him as fast as his ~~inexperienced~~ intermediate skating skills allowed. Not knowing how to stop, Yuuri crashed into the man and ended up pulling them both down onto the ice as Yuuri had gripped at the man’s dark coat to break his own fall.

“Hi, I’m Katsuki Yuuri. Want to watch me do a quadruple flip?” He blurted out as he stood up determined to cover up his embarrassment from toppling them both over. The man blinked up at him but said nothing in response. He merely stared at him with wide piercing blue eyes. The silver haired man slowly stood back up. 

“What?” He asked and glanced over his shoulder. He was probably afraid someone might see him talking to Yuuri. He had to make sure his new friend knew he was worth talking to and most definitely not a walking ball of embarrassment.

“A quad flip,” he stated tilting his chin up so his new friend would know he could be cool and confident too. “Watch!”

He spun in a slow circle. Neither feet left the ice at any point in time. Exactly like Yuuko taught him.

“Ta-daa!” He beamed up.

The man blinked. Once, twice, then burst out laughing. A gloved hand covered his mouth as he struggled to contain the noise. Yuuri frowned. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all. He’d done the quad flip perfectly! So why was he being laughed at?

“Sorry, sorry.” The man got out after his laughing died down. “That was wonderful. Yuuri, right? I’m Deat- Victor. Call me Victor. I’m sorry to ruin your skating session. I didn’t realize anyone would be able to see me in here.”

Yuuri perked up. “Are you kidding? You didn't ruin anything; you’re amazing! Everyone should be watching you skate! What was that jump you did a minute ago?”

Victor let out a small breath that most definitely was not a laugh. “Ah, just a, um, secret move I do occasionally. Don’t dwell on it too much.”

He huffed. “Well we’re friends now, so you have to tell me!”

Victor froze. “I uh, don’t really have friends, I don’t think. I mean, there’s the…Minions? Subjects? Angels? Assistants? Um, I have helpers but they never really talk to me to be honest…”

Yuuri wasn’t sure what Victor was going on about, but he wanted to argue. How did he not have any friends when he had just stated they were friends now. Victor wasn’t a very good listener. It’s okay; they could work on it. 

Or at least, the could have worked on it, had Minako not decided now was the opportune time to yank Yuuri by the arm and start skating towards the exit. 

“Have you no shame?” Minako called over her shoulder irritation ringing in her voice, but also something else. Fear? “He’s just a child. Take someone else!”

“Ow, Minako, stop I was talking to...” Yuuri started to speak and looked back. Victor was nowhere in sight. _Oh, now Minako was going to think he was crazy._

“I know who you were talking to, Yuuri.” She snapped. “And I don’t want you talking to him ever again, got it?”

He was confused. He knew adults always knew what was best. Usually knew what was best. Minako was undoubtedly wrong about this. Yuuri settled on staying silent on the matter after mumbling out an apology. Maybe he’d tell Yuuko about it later, but Minako wasn’t his mom. She couldn’t tell him what to do.

* * *

“Yuuri your form for pliées is terrible. If you’re serious about wanting to take ballet classes from me you need to work on that.” Minako scolded him. “Come on you’re ten now, two years older than the latest I usually take beginner students. You’ll have to work harder if you actually want this.”

He nodded in agreement and pointed his feet apart once more. He wasn’t naturally talented, and he needed to push himself more if he wanted to be just as good as Minako someday. _Better_ than Minako someday. Minako appeared pleased at his new form and moved on to her real students. She hadn’t yet agreed to fully take him on as a student. He had to prove himself first. He was determined to do so as soon as possible. He loved any type of dancing. It always made him feel...free. Far less restrained or nervous than he was everyday. He could easily close his eyes and just let the music carry him, anxiety kept at bay for the duration of the song. Ballet was no exception, and in addition, if he got as good at it as Minako was, he’d get to travel all over the world just like she had! He just needed something more to show Minako how serious he was. Something, amazing. 

They weren't at Minako’s normal studio today. They’d rented out a local gymnasium so Minako’s real students could practice tumbling and lifts as well as their normal routines. Yuuri squatted down doing another set of pliées. He looked around for something that would make him stand out to Minako because pliées certainly weren't it. Looking around, he spotted the high bar above a foam pit over in the corner and knew exactly what he had to do.

He was far too short to get up on on the bar without assistance, but with a bit of jumping and climbing he was able to reach it. 

He hoped Minako was going to be impressed. He usually shied away from doing anything too new or out there. He needed a comfort zone and boundaries. Well, this certainly was out of his comfort zone. He took a deep breath. He was ten now, _ten_ practically a teenager. He could do this.

He couldn’t do it. Yuuri, despite all his newfound confidence, missed the foam pit by a good two meters, and with his fantastic luck he had managed to snap the bar in half and was now tumbling head first towards the nearest wall.

* * *

Victor was bored, and he wasn’t sure what he was doing back in Hasetsu. It’s such a small town; it’s not like someone died here everyday. He hadn’t been here in nearly a year now. Given how often people die, that was a long time.

 _I should have given this assignment to one of my assistants._ He thought noting how none of them were trailing behind him today. Strange. _It’s not like I have any fun coming here. The only person around that even has the ability to interact with me is Minny-co? Miniko? M something._ Her name didn’t matter. She was terrified of him just like literally everyone else. _Well, almost everyone else._ He reminded himself.

He walked through the gymnasium doors and looked around for his next victim. He only saw children and the M lady. There wasn’t even an old receptionist ready to kick the bucket. _Great. So I'm either destroying some kid’s future, or confirming her fears of me._ He hung back towards the wall and tried to avoid what's-her-face’s detection. He hated his job, but he especially hated it on days like this. He didn’t _want_ to take anyone, or at least he certainly didn’t enjoy taking anyone young. It was just how things had always been, and someone had to take charge of it. Death’s angels certainly wouldn’t manage themselves without his command.

His heart stopped when he found who he’d been searching for. Or it would have, he guessed, if he’d had one.

 _No,_ He pleaded. _Not him. This has to be a mistake._ He really couldn’t handle this today. He was bored, but not _that_ bored. He wished he could quit. _Was that actually an option?_ He couldn’t remember.

He watched helplessly as Yuuri Katsuki put together a pile of foam blocks and began to climb a high bar. He knew what would happen next, but it’s not like he could change anything. Due to sheer bad luck, the pole was going to snap. Yuuri was going to crash into the wall and break his neck in the process. Victor was going to pick up the kid’s body and steal his soul with a kiss on the way out the door. The lady whose name began with an M would pry yell at him, or just cry. Or both.

Except, he decided that wasn’t going to happen. Not this time. Fates be damned. He had done this before, once. Refused to take someone who was next on his list. It hadn’t gone well. They hated him in the beginning, forgot about him in the aftermath, and hated him when he attempted to bring the memories back. _But this one doesn’t hate me. If there’s even the slightest chance at getting to know him...People call me selfish all the time. What’s one more thing. Might as well live up to the hype._

Victor picked up Yuuri’s unconscious, crumpled body, and laid it gently on the mat next to where he’d fallen moments before. _He’s just some kid._ He reprimanded himself. _He shouldn’t mean anything... But he doesn’t hate me._ He ran his fingers through Yuuri’s hair and brushed it out of the child’s face before he stood up to leave. A crowd was beginning to form, and although no one had come too close yet, he knew the M-named lady ( _Minniako?_ ) would notice the incident soon enough and, after getting over the initial shock, would gain the courage to march over and berate him. She couldn’t hurt him, no one could, but she wasn’t particularly fun to deal with. Victor had better things he could do. _No you don’t._

Before he could go, he felt a small hand grasp at his wrist. He nearly jumped; no one’s managed to sneak up on him in… well ever. 

“Hey, wait” Yuuri spoke up, now conscious. He sat up. “D..Don’t leave yet. You’re that one skater right? The one with the special jump? I thought we were supposed to be friends…” Yuuri trailed off. 

He turned and watched as Yuuri’s deep brown eyes met his, he felt judged. This was a child _a child_ what right did he have to judge Victor? He still held onto his wrist. He was small. So very small. _He’s...opposite. Innocent, kind...I want to give him everything._ He stopped himself. _Where did that come from? What’s that even mean?_

“Minako told me not to talk to you.” He continued after Victor didn’t answer him. Yuuri still held onto his wrist. “She said I wouldn’t understand, but now that I’m older I think I do so it’s probably alright.” 

“Do you now?” He smirked. _This should be adorable._ He crouched down to get on an eye-to-eye level with him. Yuuri still held onto his wrist. 

"Yeah, yo-you’re Death, like a grim reaper, I think? That’s what I heard Minako call you once. I think she’s just scared of you though, and she says my parents can’t see you so they’re no help. Oh, this means I’m dead now, right?” Yuuri slumped at that last part but never broke his gaze, content to accept his fate. 

His face fell. That was...not the response he had been expecting. Yuuri still held onto his wrist. He pulled his arm away ignoring the split moment when he missed the feeling. 

“And if I say yes?” He whispered already knowing what the answer will be. 

"I’m not weak.” He sounded like he wanted to convince himself more than Victor. “So that means I’m not scared of you! I just want to be friends, okay? Oh, but maybe put me back? I...I promise not to try the high bar again like that.” 

It was at that moment that he gave in completely. He smiled and brushed a strand of hair out of his eye. “Well I can’t exactly take you since we’re friends now, right? So I guess I’ll just have to put you back into the world. I’m sure the higher ups will understand.” He winked and felt his chest swell as Yuuri beamed up at him and nodded. “Anything else you want while we’re at it?” Victor couldn’t help but humor the kid.

Yuuri looked on in awe. Probably thinking of what wish he could ask of him next. _How adorable._

"I want to travel the world!” He decided. “Minako said ballet dancers can travel, but I’m not sure if that’s really for me.” 

_How strange._ “Skaters travel a lot, you know.” Victor joked remembering how they met the last time he’d been in Hasetsu. 

Yuuri nodded in agreement, then paused as if to consider whether or not to keep talking. What he wanted to say though, Victor guessed he wouldn't find out. For Minako ( _That was what Yuuri had called her, right?_ ) had finally made her way over. She was fuming. Yuuri noticed her as well and scrambled to stand up. He pulled Victor to his feet and started shoving at him to go. 

“You’rethemostbeautifulskaterI’veeverseen.” He blurted out in a burst of confidence before Victor could leave. “And I want to skate just like you someday!” He called after him. 

He smiled and disappeared into the crowd as Minako dotted over Yuuri asking him a thousand questions and thus taking his attention away. _Skate like me someday? Huh, if you remember this Yuuri, then I think I’d like to see that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always comments are appreciated if you want.  
>   
> Anyway I'm over on tumblr at [here](http://cgcoconutgun.tumblr.com)


	3. So Wie Man Plant Und Denkt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri meets Victor again. It doesn't go well.

Yuuri unrolled his socks over his ankles, slipped on a pair of tennis shoes, and grabbed his skates before heading out the door. It was an important day for him. _The_ most important day in all his eighteen years of living. He heard a small ‘arf’ and looked down at the source. Vicchan bounced alongside him as they jogged together toward Ice Castle Hasetsu. The toy poodle had to take four steps for every two of Yuuri’s. He couldn’t be late. He wouldn’t. He’d had this day marked on his calendar for the past year now. A group of figure skating coaches were holding what was practically an open audition skating call, and more importantly it was free. This was a real chance to become a professional skater. _Here,_ in Hasetsu. He could not be late. 

He had wanted to go into professional skating for as long as he could remember. He’d dabbled in ballet as well, but that had never sat with him quite the same way. For the last eight years, he had practiced skating as often as possible. However, he was, for the most part, self taught. He’d had an instructor here and there, but never a full-blown coach. With Yuuko’s family running the local rink, getting in practice time was never hard. They even let him in after hours if needed, which was often. He didn’t do quite as well when people were watching. It was probably for the best that Yuuri never had a real coach. 

The other problem was there wasn’t exactly a surplus of coaches wondering around the small, boring town of Hasetsu. Especially not ones that could help him get certified and take on skating as a career. It’s not like he could just go to a different city either since he had still been a high school student, but now he was graduated. Everything was going to change. He reached the rink with almost a full ten minutes to spare. Vicchan pant beside him. This was it. His best friend Yuuko was auditioning today, and Yuuri couldn’t wait to watch and cheer her on.

* * *

He took a seat on the bleachers and sat Vicchan on his lap. He spotted Yuuko warming up and waved. She looked up and beamed back before she got onto the ice. Yuuko was a great skater, and he knew she’d do amazing. He’d helped her plan her audition routine during the past week, but he had yet to see it put together. He shifted in his seat. Vicchan growled in displeasure. He shouldn’t be nervous for Yuuko, but he was. He couldn’t help it. She’d been practicing so hard on this. He felt like he was going to vomit. She had worked so hard on this. She would do perfectly, he knew it. He just hoped whoever was judging would agree. 

Yuuko began her routine with a short step sequence. It was nothing professional level quality, but then again that’s why she was here. Get a coach and get better. He absent mindedly kicked at his own skates below his feet. Vicchan growled in displeasure once more. “Sorry,” Yuuri breathed out, not wanting anyone to be distracted from Yuuko’s routine. Once Yuuko was done auditioning, they’d agreed to skate together and then head back to Yuuri’s house for homemade katsudon. That would manage to cheer them up if the result was poor or celebrate if it wasn’t.  
He hoped Yuuko hadn’t noticed he’d looked away. _You came here to support her,_ he reminded himself. _Now act like it._ Her routine only included one jump, a single salchow, which she had just landed. He clapped as the music ended. Yuuko took a bow and skated towards the exit. The judges nodded at her, and she thanked them for their time. Yuuri, and by extension Vicchan, sprang up to catch up with her. 

“Yuuko you were great!” He smiled. 

She hugged him in return. “Yuuri, you don’t have to lie. I nearly tripped over my skates right in the middle of the program! I’m lucky I didn’t flub the jump. I can’t make up for that with step sequences like you could.”

He blushed. His step sequences weren’t anything special. He’d told her so many times. 

“Really, Yuuri, you should have auditioned today too. You know maybe it’s not too late.” Yuuko teased. She knew he was adamant against auditioning. He just wasn’t good enough. If he wanted to make a fool of himself there were plenty of easier ways he could do so. 

“They’re cleaning up now,” he changed the topic. “I’m going to take Vicchan outside for a minute while you wait on your results, okay? Then we can do a few laps together and go back to my parents' inn, right?”

She fidgeted. “Actually, Yuuri, could I walk Vicchan around instead? I..I’m kind of scared for the results… you know? It’d be nice to get out and clear my head...if that’s fine with you.”

He handed the leash over without a question asked. He knew the feeling of needing to be alone. Yuuko thanked him and trotted out the exit door. The few spectators and any remaining judges followed her out. Yuuri let out a sigh of relief. He could use the rink now for at least ten minutes or so without an audience before the zamboni was brought out. He laced up his skates and hopped onto the ice. The chilled air felt soothing as Yuuri skated to the center and imagined music playing. What tune it was, he didn’t know; he didn’t care. This routine had never had music, that he knew of. He actually wasn’t even sure where this routine was from, but he was sure he’d seen someone perform it once. Probably on TV. He closed his eyes, face solemn and reached out toward no one and began the routine that he’d done so many times it felt ingrained in him now.

* * *

“Yuuri that was amazing!” Yuuko’s voice broke his concentration, and he fell out of his trance. He had just performed an entire routine without remembering anything. Mind completely blank. 

“What?” He went wide eyed as he realized Yuuko wasn’t the only one who had been watching him. Most of the spectators had come back, and a couple of the judges as well. They looked upset, no angry. He scrambled to get off the rink.  
“I’m so..I’m sorry.” He could feel himself beginning to panic. “I was just messing around, I’m sorry. I’ll go, I..” 

“I want him.” One of the potential coaches stopped him. 

_What?_ “You...w..want me?” He stuttered out. _Oh god,_ his English wasn’t perfect, but he thought he translated that correctly. They wanted to murder him. That’s obviously what they meant. They were gonna take him and cut him up and feed him to his dog and his family would never see him again and Yuuko would be scarred for life and it’d be all Yuuris fault and...

“Yuuri!” Yuuko snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. “Hey, did you hear?! They want you to be their student!”

He processed what she had just said. He wasn’t going to be chopped up? That was a relief. But Yuuko had said something else...They wanted him...to be...their student? _Oh!_

“But I didn’t even audition!” He protested. “How can you…”

“Nonsense,” One of them, a taller man with dark hair, retorted. “We just saw you. That was near perfection. You did come here to audition, right? I’d advise being punctual next time, but for now, we’ll let it slide.”

“I didn’t…” Yuuri started

“Get to thank you enough for this opportunity. Of course he’ll take it Mr. Celestino!” Yuuko cut in. 

“Great!” Celestino answered. “There’s just a bit of paperwork to fill out first, then the matter of moving to Detroit, and oh, we’ll pry have to enroll you in school. Wait how old are you?”

“Um. Eighteen, sir.” He bowed unnecessarily. 

“What’s the age of majority here? It’s pry eighteen, whatever. Anyway. Eighteen. So college. We’ll work on that. I haven’t read over the contracts we do in a while, but I’m sure school won’t be an issue.”

Yuuri was lost. He’d heard something about school? But he was graduated. _Oh, univeristy school._ Yuuko was answering most of the questions with a yes, simply agreeing on his behalf. He was thankful. He couldn’t talk much right now. After what seemed like hours but was only ten minutes tops, he found himself shaking hands and being ushered out the door. 

“W..What just happened?” Yuuri asked himself.

“You’re going to be a professional skater that’s what happened!” Yuuko chimed in and pulled Vicchan along as they walked home. “They picked you, Yuuri! I told you you could do it!” 

Her words just now registered with him. “Oh no!” She frowned. “Yuuko, I’m so sorry. I stole your audition. I didn’t mean to, I swear! I was just calming my nerves. I can go back now and tell them it was a mistake…”

Yuuko stopped in her tracks. Vicchan yelped at the sudden lack of movement. “Yuuri, I’m not mad. To be honest, I never really wanted it anyway. I only agreed to go because I thought we’d be going together, and by the time you clarified that, I’d already had a routine perfected.”

Yuuri furrowed his brow. He was such a bad friend. He never picked up on the cue that she hadn’t wanted to do this.

“But Yuuri,” This has been your dream since you were like, ten. You should feel proud!”

He didn’t feel proud. He was going to puke.

* * *

The move to Detroit wasn’t as bad as he had expected. Sure, there was the fact that he hadn’t practiced speaking English much outside of school, and, oh god, his grammar everyone was obviously judging him whenever he spoke, but for the most part the move had been bearable. His parents had insisted he take Vicchan with him. He had tried to argue with them, it wasn’t _his_ dog exactly; it was the family pet. What about when he traveled. Could dogs come along? But they would have none of it. If they weren’t allowed to see their son off to university, then they’d damn well make sure he wasn’t completely alone. At least that’s what they’d told him. Yuuri hadn’t yet had time to set up international calling, he hadn’t yet bought a new phone, and his parents were terrible with Skype. So it’s not like he could double check with them that they weren’t angry.

Vicchan curled up onto Yuuri's lap and breathed steadily. He absent mindedly stroked his head. He wasn’t nervous, he wasn’t. He was just...scared? Sure this had been his dream since, well, forever now, but it had always been just that: a dream. It’s not like he ever expected to actually uproot himself and move across the world. He sighed. Well, it was too late to change his mind now. 

He had just finished moving all his stuff in, not that he’d brought much anyway, but the sense of accomplishment was still there. He also knew he’d have a roommate in the dorms with him, but they’d yet to run into each other. He hoped his roommate didn’t have a problem with dogs. His thoughts trailed to his upcoming practice session that would officially jump start his new career. Vicchan jumped off his lap to curl himself up next to the pillow on the head of the bed. _He has the right idea._ He thought as he too dozed off for a short afternoon nap.  
Click

Yuuri awoke to the unmistakable sound of a phone camera going off. _Where am I at? Oh, right my dorm. Who’s taking pictures of my dorm room? What a terrible picture that makes._

He opened his eyes to see a dark skinned ( _Thai?_ ) boy in a beanie pointing his phone directly at Yuuri’s face. Click. The camera went off again.

“Can I help you?” Yuuri asked more dazed than anything else. Click.

“No.” The boy deadpanned. “You could stop moving though.” Click.

Yuuri’s annoyance reached it’s peak, and he sat up shoving the phone camera out of his face.  


“Would you mind doing that somewhere else, maybe?” He asked as he shook Vicchan awake. He _knew_ the toy poodle couldn’t actually defend him in a fight, but, well, he needed the toy poodle to defend him in this fight. Vicchan growled not at the intruder, but at Yuuri for daring to disturb him.

“No.” The boy deadpanned again. “This is _my_ room so... It should be can _I_ help you? I’m Phichit by the way. Nice to meet you. And your dog.”

Oh _Oh_ This must be his roommate. “Katsuki Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki.” _Fuck._ “Yuuri. It’s Yuuri.”

Phichit looked up from his phone and smiled. “You don’t seem so sure about that.”

“I’m sure.” He said. _Great first impression._

Phichit squinted his eyes at him and pursed his lips. He stepped closer and closer. Yuuri was trapped against the end of the bed and the wall, and he could do nothing to stop him. Accepting his fate, he closed his eyes and clung to Vicchan. He received a yelp from the dog in response. Click. He opened his eyes to see Phichit had readjusted his phone and had pointed it right in Yuuri’s face again. He smacked it away onto the floor. Phichit glared at him. Yuuri glared back. 

“I like you.” He declared retrieving his phone from the floor and checking it for damage. Yuuri wasn’t sure he liked Phichit. “We’re best friends now. Okay?”

“What?” Click. 

He was confused, but he knew one thing for sure. No matter what the boy had said. He was _not_ best friends with Phichit. He would never ever become friends with someone like Phichit.

* * *

Yuuri became best friends with Phichit.

* * *

“Can I use your phone to call home later?” Phichit asked as he walked Yuuri to the rink for practice. He didn’t have to come, he was a photography major professional nothing, not an ‘undeclared major’ professional skater like Yuuri. “I never got international calling, so don't wanna rack up those minutes, you know.”

Yuuri nodded and handed his phone over without a second thought. It was a good thing Phichit called home occasionally. A tinge of guilt. He never did. Yuuko probably hated him now. They texted, but they hadn't verbally spoken in a while. He thought he remembered her mentioning she had gotten married? He was a terrible friend. Unlike Phichit. Letting him use his phone was the least he could do for his friend after he had discreetly helped to cure Yuuri's hangover two nights ago. _It’s fine, Yuuri. American drinking laws are dumb. You’re nineteen now just say you crossed the border to Canada if someone asks, but I’m not gonna tell anyone.~_ He didn't usually drink, but when he did…

He wasn’t supposed to drink. Not only because he was technically underage, _What was with US laws?_ but also because he had a skating image to keep up. Not _his_ image per say, but the one that was marketed for him. The company he was with insisted every skater that signed on kept up a certain persona. Some of them were ‘bad boy’ types. Some had been labeled as the ‘cool big sibling.’ He swears there’s one that got assigned ‘condescending arrogant asshole.’ Yuuri had been labeled ‘innocent, pure fluffball,’ and he _hated_ it. He couldn’t be caught drinking. _Fine._ That _was_ technically illegal. He couldn’t be caught out at a party ( _Aww Yuuri, but we’re in college we have to live a little!_ ). He couldn’t smoke (not that he wanted to). He had to wear white for all his costumes. His music could never be more than sixty beats per minute and could never have cussing or possibly offensive political opinions in it. He couldn’t create his own routines for fear of ‘incompatible’ body movements. He couldn’t be seen jaywalking on a public road. The list spiraled downward from there.

All of this just...wasn’t him. He wasn’t quite sure what his “real” image was, but it sure wasn’t this. _Maybe anxious ball of stress and hunger was a better label?_ Honestly, he should have read the five year contract before he had signed it, but he’d been in a rush. He’d been nervous. Phichit had encouraged him to say something now, but Yuuri didn’t want to bother anyone. He’d willingly signed the contract without reading it, and Celestino was nice enough as a person. It was just, he hated not having control of his life like this, but this was his dream so he’d had to take the opportunity, right?

The worst part by far though, was the controlled diet. He hadn’t exactly been ‘pudgy’ since he was a kid, but he still liked to eat. He wasn’t ashamed to say he had hips. Food had been a simple pleasure to deal with stress and all, but not anymore. Especially not now that Yuuri had managed to secure a place in his first international competition, and in the senior division at that. He was hounded down on his eating habits now more than ever. He had to be weighed in daily. Legal action would be taken as he was in violation of his contract if he fluctuated more than 2.5 kilograms. He’d managed to get the okay to eat what he wanted, usually katsudon, after he won something, but it was never enough. His stomach growled. He could do this. It was his dream to skate, right?

* * *

Yuuri's first time out of America in nearly two years was _not_ going well. This competition was _not_ going well. Okay, arguably, the competition was going decent. He was in third after his short program, but that wouldn’t be good enough if he wanted to _win._ Especially not with how his hands were currently shaking. _God, you’re not even up next. You’re done for the day. You have no reason to be so weak._ He chastised himself. _Weak, weak, weak._ He hadn’t meant to flub one of his jumps so badly. He’d been doing fine, right, left, cross, crouch, spin down. He’d had this routine down to a point. Or at least he’d thought he had. Toward the end of his performance he’d made the mistake of glancing out into the crowd, despite knowing what that did to his nerves. For a split second, he’d thought he caught a glimpse of _the_ most shining silver hair to ever exist just right in the kiss and cry. It looked so familiar and yet...By the time he snapped out of his trance, he’d already fell and had taken a considerable amount of time to stand back up. His scores suffered for it.

He breathed in and out. His dog Vicchan scratched at his feet. He was glad Vicchan got to travel with him. He didn’t have anyone else he could talk to when he got like this. Sure, he could probably call Phichit, but it was like four in the morning in Detroit. He didn’t want to bother anyone.

A notepad and pen were shoved in his face pulling him out of his thoughts. 

“Wha-?” He began.

“What are you, stupid? Sign it.” A small but confident voice demanded.

He looked down. Some kid, an actual small one-and-a-quarter meter tall kid was shooting daggers at him as he shoved the pen and pad in his face once more.

“I know you speak English, you fat pig.” The kid was yelling now. Yuuri didn’t like the attention this was attracting.

 

“Wh..Why would you want _my_ autograph?” He bent down and held Vicchan closer to him. He didn’t need some child yelling at him. He was perfectly capable of yelling at himself, thank you very much.

“Everyone else sucked, and you only kind of sucked.” The kid answered. Pen and notepad still held out. “God, you’re so stupid. It’s not that difficult.”

_A fan?_ He had never had a fan before. “Oh. Okay then.” He shakily took the pen and signed his name. “Do you want this made out to you...or...”

“Of course I want it made out to me, dumbass!” _Damn, this kid had a foul mouth._ “The name’s Yuri. Oh, and don’t spell it wrong like your name is. It’s one ‘U’ not two!”

He scribbled down ‘to Yurio my favorite fan.’ He was his only fan but Yurio didn’t have to know that.

“What the fuck. I said Yuri not Yurio! Ugh, whatever.” Yurio snatched back his notebook and pen.

“You probably shouldn’t talk like that. At least not in public and not until you’re older.” He mumbled.

“I’m eleven so shut up!” Yurio spat. 

“Well you look like a six year old gremlin yelling at me like that.” Yuuri threw back.

Yurio considered him for a moment before relaxing his shoulders. “Look, pig. I’m going to skate in the senior competitions someday, and it’s going to be against you, so you better improve and stop messing up! Oh, and stop skating stupid routines that don’t fit your personality. You’re not some pure white angel. You’re an annoying ass pig. Deal with it.”

Despite the insult, he couldn’t agree more there.

“Let’s just say I'm not inspired enough to do personal routines right now.” He laughed at his own joke. _That wasn’t funny._

 

“Yeah well, without inspiration you’re as good as dead.” Yurio scoffed. 

Vicchan growled at the kid as he spun around and stomped off, tiny hands clung desperately to the paper Yuuri had just signed. 

_I would really like a drink now._ He thought after him.

* * *

Victor hadn’t personally been to Russia in a while. A couple months at least (unless he counted the brief stint yesterday when he'd gotten the schedule wrong by one day). It was cold and usually snowy. Most plant life was dead and the people miserable. He hated it. It hit a little too close to home for comfort. He supposed he could have given his assistants this assignment as well, but he’d been doing that a lot recently, and he couldn’t shove everything off onto them. Even trivial stuff like this. _What good’s a king that can’t lead?_ He joked. At least this assignment was taking him to an ice skating rink. He had a soft spot for ice skating. 

Walking into the rink, he saw that the competition was already underway. He glanced at a clock hung on the wall. He had time. His next client wasn’t due for at least an hour. He snatched a pamphlet for today’s performers and took a seat right in the kiss and cry. No one would see him here anyway, and even if they could they’d just look insane yelling at an empty bench. 

The pamphlet was written in Russian as well as English. Either one wouldn’t be an issue. Victor understood every single language. He skimmed the pamphlet uninterested before dropping it, picking it back up, dropping it one last time, and scanning it over frantically. In bright bold letters sat the name “Yuuri Katsuki.” It was _his_ Yuuri Katsuki. He just knew it. _So this is what he’s been up to._ He couldn’t help but grin biting back a giggle as he re-read the name assuring he’d seen it correctly. This was perfect. Yuuri would skate, then come to the kiss and cry and see him! He wouldn’t remember him though. He probably wouldn’t remember him though. Victor would make sure he remembered him. He just had to. 

Lost in his excitement, he hadn’t noticed that Yuuri was already out on the ice, and his music, sweet and soft, had already started. “Davai!” Victor called as loud as he could. He knew Yuuri couldn’t hear him from here, but that didn’t matter. He was going to see him again. He was going to see _his_ Yuuri again!

“What are you doing here, stupid?” A tiny voice yelled behind him. He ignored it. His Yuuri was skating. Besides, it’s not like whoever it was was talking to _him._

“Oy, I’m talking to you, old man. Don’t ignore me! Who are you knocking off today?” _That_ got Victor’s attention. Turning back, he came eye to eye with a fuming blonde kid in a ratted hoodie. He had no idea who he was, but the kid apparently recognized him. _And_ he could see him. 

“Oh, hello there? I’m, uhm, not entirely sure what you’re talking about, but if you could kindly stop yelling, I’m sure I could help you find your parents, they’re probably worried sick, and we can both…”

That just set him off more.

“The hell kind of sick joke is that!?” The blonde kid got louder. People were starting to stare now. “It better not be me. If you so much as touch me, I’ll kill _you._ I’ll fucking wreck you. You think I won’t? I’m eleven now, so unlike last time I’m big enough.”

A woman in the stands hushed the kid, but he ignored her.

“Look, I’m not here for you okay. I just want to watch Katsuki .” _For now._ Victor rubbed his forehead. He was used to people hating him, yes. He was used to people yelling at him, yes. But he was _not_ used to fearless children screaming at him as if their life depended on it.

The kid began climbing over the railing now and down into the kiss and cry. _Where was security?_

“Like hell you’re taking that idiot. I’m gonna compete against him as soon as I’m old enough, and you’re not taking that from me too!” The kid was completely over the railing now and was making his way down. 

Victor decided now was as good a time as ever to take off. He’d just have to catch Yuuri at some other point in time.

* * *

Yuuri packed up the last of his supplies and pulled at Vicchan’s leash to head back to the hotel. The dog lazily refused so he had to pick him up and carry him. He didn’t mind. Vicchan was old so he deserved to rest. Before he could get out the door though, a notepad and pen soared through the air and hit him square in the head.

“Ow,” he turned to see Yurio small and irritable, arms crossed.

“Hey pig, I gotta talk to you.” The kid demanded wiggling his hands free from his ill-fitted hoodie sleeves.

_What a nice young man._ He thought and rolled his eyes. Vicchan whined in his arms. He obviously did not like Yurio. “What? I’m tired, and I’m leaving soon. I’m going to sneak some katsudon from the nearest Japanese restaurant, even though I didn’t win. So, what? Do you want another autograph?” He picked up the fallen notepad adjusting Vicchan in his arms as he did so. 

Yurio scowled. “Katsudon, what? No, I have to tell you to be careful. You’re the only skater here that doesn’t suck so don’t fall and die, okay?”

“What?” Yuuri’s mind went blank.

“Look, all I’m saying is if some silvered haired old guy comes and asks you to walk into the light, you have to say no. Then punch him in his stupid face.” Yurio retorted.

Silver haired… old guy? Vicchan squirmed in his arms so he let him down onto the floor.

“Well, he probably doesn't look old to you cause you’re also kinda old. Anyway, he’s stupid as hell and always wears the same stupid black coat and…”

Yuuri remembered...something. A flash of silver hair. A smile. Skating? A gym. _Oh_

“Victor.” He stated. It wasn’t a question. 

“Yeah, the stupid old…you’ve seen him.” Yurio stated. It wasn’t a question.

They stared at each other. Vicchan whined at his feet. 

“I’ve never met anyone else before that’s dealt with him.” Yurio was uncharacteristically calm.

“I have.” Yuuri remembered now. Minako had always been terrified. “But no one that spoke openly about it like you do.”

He had an idea. Yurio was so much younger than him, but he’d never met another person who he could talk about _this_ with. He pulled out the pen attached to the notebook and jotted down his contact information. 

“I’ll be careful. I promise, but I...I think we should stay in touch Yurio.” He handed Yurio the notebook back. He nodded and accepted it, but refused to make eye contact.

“I..I want to skate against you and win someday. So please be careful.” He muttered. They stared at each other. Yuuri bent to pick up Vicchan again.

Only Vicchan was nowhere to be found. “Did you see…?” The backside of Yurio's hoodie could be seen trudging out the exit door. He was alone. He could feel his hands begin to shake again.

* * *

Victor was bored. He was always bored so that wasn’t new, but he was especially bored now. His next client wasn’t due for at least five minutes so he had to stick around after nearly everyone had already left. The skaters weren't even performing anymore, not that any of them were as good as his Yuuri, but they were _something_ to look at.

3:59. His client was due at four, so it would be fairly soon now. He hung around the back wall of the rink. 

A small toy poodle bounced over and yapped at Victor’s feet. He bent down to scratch its ears. “Aw, are you my 4:00pm? You’re so cute. Yes, you are!” He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of the dog’s head. “Come now, let’s go. I have other appointments too, and not all of them are as cute as you.” He picked up the poodle in his arms and stood to go, and he would have left, had he not spotted _his_ Yuuri barreling toward him at what was possibly record speed. 

_Oh god, oh god._ He couldn’t breathe. Well, he literally couldn’t breathe, but he also figuratively could not breathe. This was _his_ Yuuri, and he was coming right toward him. Victor gave a heart shaped grin. He remembered him. They hadn’t spoken in nearly nine years , but his Yuuri _remembered_ him. Yuuri had on baggy track pants and an overworn practice jacket. Victor had never noticed it before now, but Yuuri was beautiful. 

“Yuuri! My Yuuri! Hello! I watched you skate! Well, I tried to watch you skate, you were great though! I know you were! My Yuuri, I…” 

His face turned red. His eyes watered. He felt something he had never felt before, and it was all because of Yuuri. No one had ever been able to surprise him before, and Yuuri, his beautiful Yuuri, had managed to be his first. Yuuri had punched him straight in his face. 

He hadn’t known his face could hurt. 

“I’m not _your_ anything.” Yuuri fumed. “Now give him back, Victor.” Yuuri _remembered_ him, but he was also crying. Why was he crying? He had to make that stop. He’d do _anything_ to make Yuuri stop crying. Yuuri reached out and tried to take the dog from his arms. _Oh._ Victor pulled back. 

“Was he yours? He’s very cute. What’s his name?” He tried to get a conversation flowing. Maybe then Yuuri could stop crying. Why was he crying? 

“You killed my dog. Victor. Give. Him. Back.” Yuuri was shaking. _Oh._

“I...I didn’t kill him. I just took him. There’s a difference. Someone had to do it. My Yuuri, please I was just doing my job. I...” 

“Stop calling me that!” Yuuri sobbed louder. Victor was glad they were alone. _God, what was he supposed to do in this situation. What made humans happy? What made them stop crying?_

“So.. should I just like, kiss you or something?” He asked hoping that was the correct answer.  
It wasn’t. 

Yuuri furiously wiped at his tear-stained face. “What’s wrong with you? I haven’t even seen you in years!? Why would I want to kiss you especially now, or actually why would I ever want to kiss you. I know what kissing you entails.” 

_Oh, right. Mortal death and such._ He hadn’t meant it like that though. He’d really just wanted to...god why was this so hard. 

Yuuri’s tears were dying down now but only because they were all dried out. He slumped down onto the floor, head between his knees, and just sat there. He started hiccuping. Unsure of what to do next, Victor slumped down next to him. He was well aware how awkward the room felt, _he felt_ , with Victor currently holding Yuuri’s dead dog in his arms. 

“You’re so selfish.” Yuuri said. “Don’t you have enough already?” 

That hurt, but he couldn’t find it in himself to disagree. 

“I had a dog once.” Victor said instead. Not doing a single thing to lessen the tension in the air. 

“What.. are you talking about.” Yuuri grumbled in between hiccups, but he looked up at least. _Progress._

“I had a dog. A while ago. At least, as close to owning a dog as possible for me. He was a stray that I saw around often. I’d feed him everyday, and he let me pet him too. I called him Makkachin.” He tried to find common ground with Yuuri. 

“Did you kill him too?” Yuuri mumbled after a particularly loud hiccup. Victor didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. They both knew the answer to that. 

"Just, leave me alone right now, okay? Please? I just...want to be alone.” Yuuri had finally stopped hiccupping. _Progress._

He could do that. He stood up and left not bothering to look back at his Yuuri as he did. 

* * *

“I don’t think Yuuri likes me that much anymore.” Victor moped to Yurio. He had to talk to someone, and Yurio was the only one that had even the slightest of the required background information. In addition, since Yurio lived alone with just his grandfather, it was easy to talk to him one on one. So, in a burst of brilliant thought, he had decided to pay him a visit. 

The kid, in response, flicked him off without looking up from his phone. “Of course I don’t like you, you fucking weirdo. Go away.” 

“Yuur-io, I meant _my_ Yuuri. Katsuki.” He clarified and draped himself over a chair, hand to his head. This would surely make the kid understand how important a matter this was. 

“Well I’m not him, so I don’t know, and I don’t care. And don’t fucking call me that. I can’t believe Katsudon actually put me in his phone as that. I’m suing.” 

He didn’t think the eleven year old knew the first steps to any court process. He let it slide. 

“What am I supposed to do.~” He didn’t expect an answer. He just wanted to complain at this point. 

“Just suck up the fact that Katsudon hates you and move on with life or...whatever you call what you do.” Yurio stated and went back to his phone. 

Yuuri...hate...him? No Yurio was wrong. He was just some kid. He had to be wrong. 

“No,” he decided. Yurio was without a doubt wrong. His Yuuri didn't hate him. He couldn't. They were friends, right? At least they used to be. He had an idea. “I think I just need to take a new approach.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was much longer than expected, but I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Anyway I really really appreciate the comments and messages. Thanks so much!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://cgcoconutgun.tumblr.com)


	4. Der Letzte Tanz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri gets drunk. Shenanigans ensue.

Phichit wasn’t stupid. In fact, he was probably the smartest person Yuuri had ever met. He had a perfect gpa, was current president of the yearbook, still life photography, and their school's very own hamster-lover club. He had fourteen different internship offers based on his photography portfolio alone, when it was only their sophomore year. He started college at sixteen for pete’s sake. Phichit was a genius. Which begged the question why he had such a terrible taste in movies. Not just questionable, but it was a downright horrifyingly cry in your sleep cringe inducing terrible taste in movies. 

The two roommates were currently sitting side by side on their rather large dorm room couch watching _The King and The Skater._ Actually he should clarify. They weren’t even watching the passable King and the Skater original. This was a bootleg, dubbed, remake of the fourth movie _The King and the Skater: Return of the Blades._ Nothing made sense, there were vampires, someone kept singing off key, and Phichit was entranced in every single second of it. Yuuri hated musicals, but he especially hated whatever this was classified as. He was trying to be a better friend though. Phichit did so much for him, ( _No Yuuri it’s fine. I got my license for my birthday, so I can drive you to the rink. Yuuri, it’s forty minutes away I insist_ ) but it wasn’t like he ever did much in return ( _Yuuri come oon, it’s one party. No one will find out. I just need an older adult with me so they don’t think I’m some high school kid. What do you mean, no?_ ). He owed it to Phichit to be better. So, here he was watching whitewashed Thai characters slice off vampire flesh. He groaned. 

“Hmm,” Did you need something Yuuri?” Phichit asked face glued to the TV screen. 

Yuuri draped his arm over the side of the couch and stared out the window. “Nah, not really.” He wondered if he could convince his coach to let him make vampires his next season’s theme. It was better than his current one (‘The purity of rainbows’). He pulled at his hair. He didn’t want to think about skating routines right now. “I’m gonna make butter-less popcorn. Do you want any?”

Phichit stuck out his tongue in disgust. “How about some real popcorn? The plain stuff’s gross.”

He hesitated. Guilt. “Yeah, I can do that I guess. I’ll have something else…”

Phichit shot up, but not before he paused the movie. “Yuuri, it was a joke. I know you can’t really…” He trailed off.

To say Phichit was understanding of the restrictions he was under with his skating company would be an exaggeration. It was more like, he was sympathetic. He still complained about it every time, but he knew Yuuri didn’t like it any more than he did. 

“No, it’s fine. I’m not really hungry anyway.” He turned away from the window and faked a smile.

“We both know that’s a lie.” Phichit un-paused the film turning his attention away. Yuuri was thankful. 

Squeak. Squeak. He glanced over at Phichit’s hamsters. Gold, Silver, and Bronze, named for their coloring by Yuuri when Phichit first got them about ten months ago. ( _No, Yuuri. We need at least one pet in the dorm._ ) They probably wanted to be let out. He wondered if Phichit would be mad he’d left in the middle of the movie if it were for the sake of the hamsters. _This movie sucks._ He decided he would find out. He got up to open the cage and took out Gold first. If Phichit was upset, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Oh, Yuuri.” Phichit called over eyes still glued to the screen. “You got a letter in the mail last week. Sorry, I forgot to tell you. It’s on the counter by the butter jar, I think.” 

He placed Gold temporarily back into her cage silently apologizing to the hamster for getting her hopes up. Sure enough, a plain white envelope sat on the counter. There was no return address or even postage. Its outside simply read: "Mr. Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Are you sure this came in the mail, Phichit? It’s not even stamped.” He asked and picked up the letter turning it over, nothing on the back either. Phichit didn’t answer, too engulfed in the vampire on screen singing about mountains or something. He ripped open the envelope, careful not to rip the letter inside. He failed, and a corner of the letter was ripped anyway. 

_My Yuuri,_

It started. He didn’t like it. Squeak. Squeak. Gold was getting antsy again.

_I hope this manages to reach you okay. I was not quite sure of how to go about acquiring stamps, so I just hand delivered this. Oh, but please don’t be angry. I didn’t go into your house or anything this time, I just slipped it under your door. You weren’t home at the time anyway. I mean, I think you weren’t. I wasn’t checking or anything. Anyway, ~~I can~~ I hope you’re doing okay. I know your schedule keeps you busy, but please do take care of yourself. Tell your roommate I said ‘hello.’  
~V_

He crumpled up the letter. He was _not_ going to tell Phichit that the living embodiment of Death himself had said ‘hello.’ He had tried to tell him about Victor before, only for him to assume he was joking. ( _Yuuri, you see dead people? Hah, that’s funny. Let me try next. Uhm...no, I am your father. Hah, this is fun. Okay, you again._ ) 

The letter wasn’t that entirely unwelcome, to be honest. Victor had been talking to him on and off for a while since last year’s...incident. Sure, he had been depressed over it, but as it turned out, Yuuri got bored of being depressed after a while, or so he told himself. So they began talking. It was just, talking to Victor always felt...weird. He’d forgiven him for the Vicchan thing, he really had. He mostly had. He’d forgiven him as much as you can forgive someone for killing your dog, but it wasn’t weird because of the dog thing. It was just Victor felt...different now. He came off as reserved, withdrawn, like he was scared of _Yuuri_ which was ridiculous. Yuuri wasn’t scary. He didn’t think. So the letter was mostly a surprise to him. The type of contact they’d had during the past year had been limited to greetings in passing and a couple cordial conversations about the ongoings of Yuuri’s life. It was always about his life, Victor didn’t want to talk about _his_ ongoings, and he didn’t want to ask. He had even told him he was welcome to come over and visit, but Victor rarely took him up on that, and when he did, again, they only spoke of cordial boring topics. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

**Yurio:** What’s ur fav color.

This was...new. Yurio was never one for small talk, especially trivial small talk.

 **Yurio:** Old man wnt stop asking me. Said hed leave me alone for 4 days straight if I found out.  
**Yurio:** Told me not to tell u he asked. Told him to suck it n leave u alone.  
**Yurio:** Said he’d given u alone time for almost a year now. Dnt know what tf that means. Be careful.

He was puzzled. Why would Victor care about his favorite color, and even if he did why didn’t he just ask him directly.

 **Yurio:** Oy I can see u read these fkin answer me

He quickly typed back ‘blue’ and silenced his phone. 

“Someone’s popular tonight.” Phichit said over his shoulder. Yuuri jumped. _When had he stopped watching his movie. It must have ended._ “Hah, sorry. I’ll announce myself next time, but who are you texting this much?”

He moved to hide the crumpled letter, and his phone as best as he could into his pocket. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, but he still felt obliged to try to hide his actions. “Oh, uhm, my cousin.” It was a lie, but it was the truth to Phichit. Yuuri and Yurio talked and Skyped too much to hide his existence from his roommate. Lying and saying it was his cousin had been much easier than telling the truth. _Oh yeah, this twelve year old is some random kid I met in Russia that time my dog died. I found out we can both see Death and aren’t scared of him so I, a grown adult, asked for the twelve year old’s number in order to stay in touch. Oh, also we both love skating. We talk often._

Phichit frowned and backed off. “Oh, that’s not hot gossip. I thought it was gonna be someone special.~”

His stomach growled. He ran his fingers through his hair then gently brushed Phichit aside, careful not to let his roommate notice the crumpled letter as he discreetly threw it in the trash. He didn’t have the patience for gossip-time with Phichit right now, and he certainly didn’t have time for Victor’s antics. Whatever he was up to, he knew he’d find out soon enough, but he had class in the morning, practice in the afternoon, and he was sleep deprived. He was going to bed. 

  
  


Sure enough, the next week he came home to Phichit with a shit eating grin plastered on his face. 

“Yuuu-ri, look what was left in front of our door this morning.” Phichit thrust a vase full of the brightest blue roses he had ever seen into his arms. They were almost the same color as…

_Victor._

“Soo, who’s the secret admirer? The tag just says “V.” Yuuri, you gotta tell me. Come on, we’re _best_ friends. We tell each other everything. Yuuri. Yuuri, my bro, my pal. Yuuri, I’ll do the dishes for three, no four days.” He expected Phichit would go to his knees begging soon if he didn’t come up with something. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” _Wow, great excuse._ He bit his cheek to keep from giving his blatant lies away. “I don’t know anyone by that initial.”

Phichit considered him then took the vase back from his arms. “Hmm, so you won’t mind if... I..toss..these…” He stepped backward toward the kitchen trash as he spoke. 

Did he mind? He didn’t have a particular attachment to the flowers. Oh, but Victor would probably be upset and complain if he found them tossed out. If not to him, then to Yurio, who would then complain to him. Yeah, that was it. He’d keep them for the sake of Yurio.

“No!” He yelled far too loud for the distance that was between him and Phichit. 

“Aha!” He closed the trashcan lid and handed the flowers back to him.

“No, it’s just… I don’t want them to go to waste you know?” Blatant lies. Phichit knew it too. “I’ll just...set them on the counter for now.”

Phichit began framing the vase with his hands, forming a square and squinting one eye. Once it was it the perfect position, he whipped out his phone. “Don’t worry Yuuri, I’ll tweet a couple pics of these and ask if anyone with a V name lost these. Since you don’t seem to know…”

He sighed. He wasn’t sure how much he could deal with these semi-public antics. He wished Victor could just talk to him like a normal...person. 

  
  


He didn’t. _Of course he wouldn’t._

* * *

Victor was thrilled. His plan was going perfectly. His plan was going well. He hoped it was going well. His Yuuri hadn’t yet directly asked him to stop. Sure, he hadn’t responded to the letter, and didn’t even put the flowers in his bedroom, but he hadn’t _rejected_ them either. His plan was foolproof. Step one: leave his Yuuri alone for a while and give him his space after ~~killing~~ taking his dog last year. That way Yuuri can get himself together and forgive him. Done. Step two: Get Yurio to divulge all he knew about his Yuuri’s likes and dislikes. After a considerable amount of bargaining and begging, done and done. Step three: Woo Yuuri Katsuki. In progress. Step four: Well, step four was yet to be decided, but it would be good. He knew it would.

Of course, step three had its own parts as well. After the letter and flowers, came food. Katsudon to be specific. The best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. He had heard people say that before. He personally thought that was dumb, but if that’s what humans liked, that’s what humans liked. 

Alright. He could do this. He’d waited until Yuuri and his roommate were in class before going into their kitchen. Yuuri’s roommate never locked the door behind him, not that locked doors would really stop him. Yuuri might be upset that he ~~broke into their dorm~~ decided to borrow his kitchen, but he’d get over it after the end result.

For college students, they sure had a lot of cooking equipment. He rolled up his sleeves and stared at the cooking instructions he’d received from Yurio, which had been hastily written down on his arm before arriving here. _Victor, you can do this. For Yuuri._

* * *

Yuuri and Phichit’s kitchen was currently a mess. No, that wasn’t true. It was a tornado, burnt, bug infested, train wreck. It wasn’t even a kitchen anymore. It was a burned down war zone. There were at least ten different dishes broken on the floor, the oven was smoking, and a bowl of black charcoal sat on the counter. Oh, and Death was standing in the center of it all beaming. 

“Yuuri, what the hell did you do?” Phichit ran in from the hallway once the fire alarm started going off, grabbing the fire extinguisher from the wall and struggling to pull the pin out.

Yuuri pinched the bridge of his nose and set down his notes he’d taken in class. 

“My Yuuri! Hi! I made you Katsudon!” Victor held out the burnt bowl of charcoal.

“I can’t eat Katsudon outside of winning competitions, Victor.” He said pushing the bowl aside.

“Yuuri can you maybe shut the hell up, stop talking to yourself, and help me put out the literal fire starting in our kitchen?” Phichit had finally managed to pull the pin out, but he hadn’t figured out how to actually release the foam.

He grabbed it from him and squeezed the handle stopping the smoke from forming into full on flames. Click. Phichit had taken a picture. _Of course._

“So, are you going to clean this up or…?” Phichit asked. Yuuri didn’t answer. He was busy trying to figure out if glaring hard enough at Victor would make him disappear. So far, the answer was no. “I’ll get a broom, I guess.” Phichit grumbled at him.

“My Yuuri, I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” He was desperately braiding part of his hair and looked like he was trying not to cry. _Could Death cry?_ “ I didn’t know you can’t have that. Oh!” He stopped playing with his hair and looked up. “I can make you something else, how about…”

“No!” Yuuri threw the fire extinguisher down receiving a ‘yeesh’ from Phichit in the other room. “Victor, I…” He wanted to berate him, he really did, especially for calling him fucking ‘my Yuuri’ again. It was just. Victor was covered in pieces of food. His kitchen was covered in food, plates, and charcoal. Phichit would be back soon. He was tired. So exhausted. “Victor, can you just try something less messy next time? And help me clean this up maybe too?”

His mood picked up immediately, and he sprang into action beginning to clean up. He broke six more plates in less than sixty seconds. If he’d just take off those stupid dark gloves and jacket he always wore...

“Victor. Stop. I changed my mind. Just let me.” He left the room to see if Phichit had found the broom yet.

* * *

Okay. So. Part ‘C’ of step three did not go exactly as planned. He could apparently not cook even if his ~~life~~ existence depended on it, but that was okay! There was still emergency part ‘D’ of step three. He hadn’t a clue how to start the process of this sort of thing, but he’d figure it out. This step was guaranteed to work. After this, he was sure his Yuuri would start to see him as more human, figure of speech. Besides, Yuuri had said less messy, and this was for sure less messy.

* * *

“Yuuri, puh-lease, please, please. You have to. You never go out. It you don’t come with me, I’ll literally die. Yuuri. Mi amigo. Por favor.” Phichit was trying puppy-dog eyes now. It never worked on him, but he’d still try.

“Phichit, you know I can’t be caught at parties. I’ll be in contract violation.” He didn’t bother to look up from his desk where he was doing homework. “You shouldn’t be caught at one either. You’re eighteen, that’s still considered underage drinking here. Besides, no one wants to hang out with me there anyway.”

“Yuuri, that’s such a lie. You’re like _the_ most popular guy in school. You’re literally a famous rising skating star. I don’t even have a name in my physics class anymore. I’m just ‘Yuuri Katsuki’s roommate.’ Yuuri please, we could even get a hotel room together or something so no one sees us come back here, please dude. No one has to know you even went. I ain’t no snitch.” Phichit begged.

He ignored him and got up to go to the kitchen to grab a water bottle. Their kitchen was finally put back together. Phichit still didn’t believe that Yuuri hadn’t been “stone cold high out of his damn mind” to make such a mess, but he’d get over it. He heard Phichit fake stomp into his room and slam the door. He wasn’t really mad. He just did this whenever Yuuri refused to go out, which was all the time. He sighed. It wasn’t that he never wanted to go. God, he wanted to go just once, but...skating and all, and he wanted to skate still, right?

Crunch. Yuuri had stepped on a leftover piece of one of the broken plates the broom must have missed. He picked it up with a paper towel and tossed it out. _What had Victor been thinking?_ Sure, the thought had appeared nice in retrospect, if he ignored the fact that Victor had broken into his house. It was just _how_ did he not know how to cook that humorously bad. It would have been enduring had it not baffled the hell out of him. Oh, and why had he decided to cook for him so out of the blue? Not that he didn’t appreciate the thought, he guessed. Oh, and why the letter and the flowers and...he stopped moving. His face burned bright red. He needed to call Yurio asap.

Yuuri had unlocked his phone and was two seconds away from dialing before he stopped himself. God, he couldn’t call a twelve, _twelve_ year old about this. ( _Hi, hello, yes. This is Yuuri. I just realized that actual Death himself might be trying to court me. Nope, that’s not a figure of speech. Anyway, regardless of his level of attractiveness, I’d like advice on how to turn him down and inform him I am an inexperienced twenty year old virgin please._ ) Yeah, that was not a conversation to have with twelve year old Yurio. It wasn’t a conversation he could have with _anyone._ Well…

He went back to his phone and dialed Minako. It rang. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

“Alo?” Minako answered. He breathed out in relief. He could _not_ have gained the courage to leave a voicemail about this. 

“Minako, I… IthinkVictor’stryingtowoome!” He made sure he got it all out. No going back now.

Silence. He thought he heard a crash from over by the bedroom doors. _Probably Phichit being dramatic._

“Hello?” He asked into the receiver.

“What? Who the hell is this?” She answered back.

Guilt. He hadn’t spoken to her in years, since he’d been in Hasetsu. This was a stupid idea to call her. At least Yurio didn’t hate him. _I think._ He sucked in a deep breath.

“It’s..it’s Yuuri. Katsuki. I uhm, I think Victor is trying to woo me.”

Silence. After some time, she spoke. “Who the hell is Victor?” 

_Oh._ He’d forgotten Minako never _actually_ talked to...Death. She was terrified of him. 

“Uhm. Death. Grim reaper guy, you know?” He could tell how dumb this sounded now that he was saying words out loud. 

Silence. After a minute, “Katsuki. You haven’t called me in years.” Guilt. “Not even a text. Radio silence. Then instead of ‘hello how are you doing Minako,’ it’s ‘hey remember the _one_ thing you told me to never talk to? Yeah we’re on a first name basis, and oh, I’m going to screw him.’”

He could feel the phone shaking in his hands. _God, you’re so weak, it’s just a phone call._

“I’d say ‘stop talking to him,’ or ‘be careful,’ or even ‘wear a condom,’ but it’s not like you ever listened to anything I said.” She berated him.

He focused everything he had on not dropping the phone from his shaking hands. “I’m sorry, Minako. I’m stupid, I know I just…”

“Yuuri, it’s okay.” _What?_ “I still love you. We all still love you. We just miss you, okay?” 

His hands slowed down their shaking. Minako didn’t hate him. That was a start. 

“So, Death, huh? Your parents will be thrilled. I guess he’s attractive enough if you get past the, you know, guaranteed to kill you thing.” She joked. His hands stopped shaking completely. 

“I’m not trying to do anything with him. I just needed to talk to _someone,_ and you know I can’t talk to just anyone, and I’m not even sure if this is just how he is with everyone, so I had to call and…” He made his way to his bedroom. He didn’t want Phichit to overhear this conversation if he decided to come out into the living room- kitchen area. Even if he understood the context, he’d never let Yuuri live it down.

“To be honest, I wouldn’t know if he’s like this with everyone.” She answered truthfully. “I never gave him the time of day, you know that.” 

“Yeah, it’s just…” He had to stop when he opened the door to his bedroom. For there, right on his floor, sat his bedroom lamp shattered into pieces. It could never be repaired now. He’d have to buy a brand new lamp. Oh, also Victor was on his side lying on his bed, buck naked. He didn’t know Victor even had the ability to remove his gloves and jacket. 

“Hello, my Yuuri!” Victor stood up, glass shards apparently of no concern to his bare feet, and stretched an arm out toward him. “Did you know I look the same as humans underneath my coat and such? I usually have a vest and tie on too, but I don’t think I've ever shown you that before.” Then he winked. _Winked._

“Minako, I have to go.” He ignored any protest she gave. 

He slammed the door shut. 

“Phichit,” He called out walking as far away from his bedroom as possible, “Is that party still a thing? I need to get plastered. Now.”

* * *

Victor wasn’t sure if he should follow his Yuuri to this party him and his roommate were going to. Sure, when he had asked where they were going and if he could come, Yuuri hadn’t exactly asked him to stay away. Actually, he had looked him in the face unsmiling and said “I’m going to get so plastered my soul ascends to another level of being” and walked out the front door. He had never heard that human phrase before, but it wasn’t a ‘go away’ so... He had a couple appointments to attend to first, but he ended up at some frat house a couple hours after when he presumed Yuuri had arrived. 

He looked around for Yuuri. He was probably hiding in a corner drinking alone somewhere. He knew his Yuuri hated social gatherings. Some drunk guy bumped into him and giggled ‘sorry, man.’ He ignored them. They weren’t important. He looked around once more for his Yuuri. Except, someone...had...just apologized for bumping into him. Someone here could see him. He whipped around and finally found who he’d been looking for. Across the room, shirt stained from spilled alcohol, Yuuri was dancing the night away with a girl Victor didn’t care about. She was of little significance, but, god, Yuuri, his Yuuri. Sweat dripped down his face, and he was bright red. His hair was disheveled. He was beautiful. 

He watched as Yuuri spun the girl until she complained of dizziness and refused to dance anymore. _How rude._ He thought as he watched the corner of Yuuri’s mouth tilt downward. _Can’t she tell he's upset? If that were me, I’d never make him frown like that._

Yuuri got over his lack of a partner quickly though. He wobbled over to the drink table, ignored all the pre-poured cups and shot glasses and started chugging straight from a bottle of what looked like cheap vodka. 

“Woah, look at Katsuki go!” Someone called out. 

Victor was looking. He never stopped looking. He worried. Humans could die from alcohol right? He wasn’t sure the amount required, but he knew they could, somehow. He had to stop him. 

“ _Victoooor,_ when did you get here?” Yuuri called out grinning a mile a minute as he came over and took the bottle from his hand setting it back on the table. “Aw, no fair. You can’t have the whole thing! It's mine!” Yuuri tried to reach for the bottle again, but he blocked his path. 

“Yuuri, I think you’ve officially ascended planes of existence. You’ve had enough.” He guided him away from the drink table focused on ignoring how nice it felt to have his arm wrapped around Yuuri’s waist.

“You just want me all to yourself.~” The drunk man sang. He couldn’t deny it. “I bet you wanna kiss mee.~” He couldn't deny it. “Hey, everyone! Death wants to kiss me, hah. Get it? Hah. Death’s kiss. Ha...ha.” Yuuri swayed in his arms.

“Yuuri, stop. You’re causing a scene.” He could deal with the attention, but he knew everyone would only see Yuuri yelling into the abyss, and he wanted to save him from that embarrassment. “I’m not going to kiss you.” He admitted. He remembered he couldn’t, not without Yuuri suffering for it. 

“Aw, that’s too bad.” Yuuri pouted. “I really wanted to kiss someone tonight. Hmm. Oh, I know!” Yuuri wiggled out of his arm and skipped across the room. Victor made way to follow him. “Phichit!” Yuuri called out. Yuuri’s roommate, Phichit apparently, put down the object he’d been trying to take selfies with. He was also just as wasted, if not more so than Yuuri was, seeing as he was taking selfies with a red solo cup for a camera. 

“Yuuri! What’s up?” He slurred. Yuuri didn’t give a verbal answer. He grabbed Phichit with both hands and began sucking his face with sloppy kisses. Phichit dropped his solo cup. Victor twirled a strand of hair in his fingers. This was awkward. Sure, Yuuri was free to kiss whomever he wanted, and, sure, he guessed he wished it were him. It was just...Yuuri’s eyes were wide open, and he was staring at Victor the whole time. He wondered if he should leave before the two finally broke apart.

“Hah, Yuuri, my bro. My pal. Hah.” Phichit swayed. “ That was nice. I don’t think I like you like that though.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Yuuri stated. The two boys held silent eye contact for a couple seconds before they burst out laughing. 

“Oh, Yuuri. I loove this song!” Phichit called out as the music changed. “Let’s go dance.” Phichit pulled Yuuri by the wrist and out to what was considered the dance floor for a frat house party which was pretty much anywhere not against a wall. Yuuri pulled his wrist away looking over at Victor. He was really glad only Yuuri could see him. He felt so awkward here. 

“Actually, I’m gonna dance over there, bro bro. ‘Kay?” Yuuri didn’t wait for an answer before prancing his way over the Victor’s spot against the wall.

He nearly jumped when Yuuri threw his arms over his shoulders. “ _Victooorr,_ dance with me!” Yuuri started swaying his hips against his thigh. He felt his pants get tighter. Wait, was he getting aroused? He hadn’t known that was a thing that could happen. He peeled Yuuri’s arms off from around his neck which caused Yuuri to frown. _Oh, no._

“Victor, what’s wrong? I thought you wanted me to court you. Hah, hah, court Death. Hah, get it?” Was that what he wanted? He hadn't actually figured out what came next in his plan after successfully wooing Yuuri. He supposed it wouldn't be a bad thing. Dating Yuuri. Yuuri was bringing his lips dangerously close to his now. He had to stand on his toes to get away. “Aw, will I still die if _I_ kiss you? That’s not fair. If I initiate it, it shouldn’t count!” He didn’t know if that was an actual rule. He knew for humans he had to kiss them on the lips to take them, but he didn’t know whether or not it counted if _they_ kissed him. He certainly didn’t want to test that out on his Yuuri.

Yuuri rocked back on his heels and giggled. “I bet you’ve kissed lots of people. Lots of ugly people.”

“I thought you wanted to dance.” He changed the subject and led him away from the wall. Yuuri's face lit up, and he nodded rapidly. 

His Yuuri was twirling and spinning as soon as there was room to do so. Victor tried to copy his moves to the best of his ability, but even drunk, Yuuri was far more skilled than he was. Yuuri had his hand around the small of his back now. He allowed Yuuri to take the lead as they danced. Yuuri led them all over. They danced around couches. They danced around tables. They danced around couples that should probably get a room. They danced over some guy half passed out on the floor mumbling about how ‘this most definitely was not JJ style.’ For the briefest of seconds, he wondered how strange Yuuri looked dancing what appeared to be solo, but then he decided he didn’t care.

“I wish I could do this every weekend.” Yuuri interrupted his trance and twirled him around once, twice.

“Hmm?” Victor wished he could do this everyday.

“Well, maybe not so much drinking.” Yuuri burped. “Hah. But the dancing? This is fun. But I'm _not allowed_ to have fun. Oh, Victor you can’t tell anyone I’m here, okay? I'll get in trouble, you know? Ugh, skating sucks.”

He looked at Yuuri’s face for any sign of a joke. Yuuri twirled him around again. 

“But you love skating.” He had thought he’d loved the sport.

“Skating, yeah but all these restrictions? Bleh. Bleh, bleh, bleh. Hah! Victor, say bleh. It’s a fun word. Bleh.” Yuuri started to do the twist while still linked to him.

Victor did not say bleh. He twirled Yuuri around once, twice. “What would your ideal skating scenario be?” 

Yuuri pondered that before pulling him into his chest. He sprang his gloved hand up to his mouth to make sure Yuuri didn’t kiss him. Yuuri’s mouth went to his ear instead.

“Er~os.” Yuuri whispered and moved a thigh between Victor’s leg. “I would skate to Eros.” 

Did Yuuri know what he was doing to him? Was his Yuuri a sadist? He thought he might blush. Could he blush? “Sexual love, hmm?”

On a sudden whim, Yuuri dipped him. He threw his arms back to make sure he didn’t fall. He didn’t; Yuuri was supporting him. Their faces were now inches apart from each other. He could feel Yuuri’s warm alcohol scented breath on his cheeks. He was desperately trying to resist the urge to close the gap between them. The music had dulled down now preparing to switch to the next song. 

“God, you’re so beautiful, Victor.” Yuuri whispered. His mind stopped. No one had ever called him _that_ before. His eyes shot up to meet Yuuri’s. He was crying. _Oh god, why did this always happen._ Why did he always have to make Yuuri cry.

“Yuuri I’m sorry. Whatever I did, I’ll stop right now. Do you want me to go? I swear, I'll never bother you again, I swear.” He stood and tried to pull himself out of Yuuri’s grasp.

Yuuri held his grip firm. “It’s not fair. You're so _so_ beautiful.” Yuuri was still crying, but it was softer now. He removed a glove and handed it to Yuuri to dry his face with. He accepted the glove but just stared at it. Yuuri swayed before he sniffled and stopped crying. “I think I’d like to go now, Victor. Take me back now, please.” 

He obliged. He would never say no to anything his Yuuri asked of him.

They left the frat house and walked down the sidewalk together. Yuuri clung to him for support swaying occasionally and having to lean in harder each time. The glove he had handed Yuuri had been lost at some point. _Oh well._ He could get a new one. He noticed he hadn’t the faintest idea what way they were heading. 

“So back to your dorm?” He inquired. Yuuri shook his head violently. 

“No, no, no!” Yuuri hiccuped. “Then someone will see me, and I'll get in trouble. Phichit and I got a hotel room though. It’s hmm. Oh, it's the Inn on Ferry Street! They rented to people under twenty one so...”

He knew where that was. He knew where everything was. It would be quite a walk, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t get tired, and he’d carry Yuuri if needed. He turned his Yuuri around and started walking in the other direction. A little ways down, he had to pull Yuuri back from crossing an intersection while cars soared by.

“Yuuri, please be more careful.” He let out a breath he hadn’t needed to take or hold in in the first place.

Yuuri laughed then hiccuped. “Hah, you sound just like Yurio. Be careful. Be careful. Hah. Except he’s usually telling me to he careful around you. Hah. I wish people would stop telling me what to do.”

He hummed at the mention of the twelve year old. He knew exactly what Yurio thought of him. 

“My Yuuri,” he started.

Yuuri groaned. And groaned. And kept groaning. Someone was bound to look out their window soon. “ _Victooor~_ I really wish you’d stop calling me that. I don’t want to be yours. I want to be mine. My Yuuri. Except not your Yuuri. My as in me. Me Yuuri. Hah.”

He…did not want to stop calling Yuuri his, but if was something his Yuuri wanted that badly he would oblige. At least out loud. “Alright, if that’s what you wish then,” he started.

“How do you decide who to murder?” _Ow_. Yuuri interrupted him, uninterested in whatever he was going to say next. That hurt.

“I don’t.” He told the truth. He just took who was on his list next. He had a preference for older people, yes, it made him feel less guilty. But he never picked who lived and died. He almost never picked who lived and died. He had never picked who died. 

Yuuri hummed satisfied with that response. He had to stop him from tripping over a sidewalk crack. Yuuri hiccuped once more.

When they reached the hotel some miles later, Yuuri led them to his room then stood in front of the door, brow furrowed. “It won’t open.” He stated to him. Victor smiled. 

“It’s because you need the key m- Yuuri. You need the key, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri’s eyes widened, and he dug into his pocket. He pulled out the hotel key, only instead of using it to unlock the door, Yuuri immediately shoved it down the front of his pants. “Now you have to get it out, _Victoor.~_ ” Yuuri hiccuped.

He was not going to do this right now. Instead, he simply unlocked the door using his own abilities. He turned to Yuuri. “What, do you really think a locked door will keep out Death?” He winked. He hoped Yuuri didn't take that the wrong way, but what way had he meant it?

The lights were all turned off. Phichit wasn’t back yet from the looks of it. Yuuri seemed to notice that much as well because as soon as the door was shut behind them, he slammed him up against the wall and started pulling at his black coat. 

“Victor it won’t come off. I've seen you take it off. Take this off.” 

He froze. Yuuri took his silence as consent and got down onto his knees. “You’re gonna be my first, you know.” Yuuri breathed onto him, and he took in the sight. Yuuri on his knees, pulling at his clothes. Yuuri would be his first too. _Oh god._ No, no this wasn’t going to happen. He pushed Yuuri off him as gently as he could while still getting his point across. 

“Yuuri, you’re drunk.” He said. _I could kill you._ He did not say.

Yuuri whined. “Aw, so the serial murderer has gentlemanly standards.” That hurt. Why did Yuuri say such hurtful things. His Yuuri certainly was a sadist.

He picked Yuuri up and set him down onto the bed. He ignored Yuuri seductively asking if they were going to share the bed. He found Yuuri’s phone and plugged it in as well, then handed it over cord attached after Yuuri whined that he needed to use it.

“I’m going to go now Yuuri.” He let him know. “Do you need anything else before I leave? Non-sexual.” He added as an afterthought. 

Yuuri nodded enthusiastically and sat up in bed. He motioned for him to come over. On guard, he did so. 

“Victor. I want...no I need…” Yuuri’s breath was barely above a whisper.

He leaned in closer. Yuuri’s face was flushed. Yuuri bit his lip. He leaned in closer. They were one inch apart, at most, now. His heart figuratively raced. He could hear Yuuri’s heart literally race. Yuuri threw up all over his coat.

In all his years of existence, Victor had never felt so alive.

* * *

Yuuri’s head stung. His breath tasted like mint. His hotel key was in the front of his pants? He was never drinking again in his life. He looked around. At least he had made it to his hotel room. It looked like Phichit never had. Yuuri hoped he was okay. He reached onto the nightstand to check his phone. He wished he hadn’t. Fifty three missed messages. Four missed calls. He rubbed his temple and began to work through them. His face flushed. Most of them were pictures of him drunk off his ass from unknown numbers or people he only ever saw in class, but a couple caught his eye.

In at least six of the pictures he was very clearly dancing with Victor of all people, although all the captions were along the lines of ’Yuuri drunk dances alone,’ ‘Yuuri my man,’ and ‘lmao.’ His ears burned. This was not just dancing but _seductive_ dancing. He could see the way he was touching Victor in these pictures. Bodies close, his leg between Victor’s thighs in a couple of them. Yuuri _dipping_ the man. Victor’s long silver hair flowing as they twirled. They were both smiling. He frantically looked around the room. God, had he gone home with Victor?! There was room service breakfast sitting on the windowsill. Was Victor here now? Silence. It seemed he was currently alone. 

He rang Phichit. Once, twice. 

“Ughh, hello?” He sighed a breath of relief. At least Phichit was safe. 

“Phichit, where are you?” He tried not to sound too panicked. He didn’t need to worry his friend this early in the morning.

Phichit groaned obviously still waking up. “I went home with that one person from my black and white photography class last night. Sorry, I’ll still pay you back for my half of the hotel room. But heh, Yuuri, they are wild. So wild. We played smash bros all night long. Yuuri, you don't understand, it was wild. Well maybe you do understand; you were pretty wild last night too.” 

He chewed his lip. He didn’t want to ask but…"Phichit what did I do last night?”

Phichit snorted. “You don't remember? We got there and you immediately chugged three beers, threatened to fight that frat president for hitting on some girl, danced with said girl, chugged a shit ton of vodka, made out with me, then danced by yourself for a while. Oh, then you walked all the way back to the hotel.” 

He was going to keel over from embarrassment.

“Hey, Yuuri it's fine. Breathe, remember to breathe.” Phichit called in to the phone. 

He tried. He really tried. “I...I'm gonna go Phichit. I'll see you at home.”

“Okay. If you’re sure...take care.” Phichit didn’t try to argue.

The phone call ended. He breathed in. He breathed out. _Don't be weak._ He told himself. He forced himself to check the rest of the messages. Junk. More junk. More pictures of him dancing. A selfie from Phichit. _Oh. Oh god._ It looked like drunk Yuuri had forwarded some of these to Yurio. 

**Yurio:** Katsudon wtf.  
**Yurio:** These better b photoshopped.  
**Yurio:** Old man just came by n thankd me. Thanked me.  
**Yurio:** I stg. I said be careful not become his bff. Call me u idiot.

In. Out. He made himself breathe in, out. He could feel his breathing speeding up. _This wasn’t too bad._ He told himself. Yurio would get over it. He’d call him soon. His breathing slowed at the thought. He had one final unread text. He could do this. It was from his coach. 

**Celestino:** Yuuri you need to call me asap. Company not happy. 

In all his years of living, Yuuri had never felt worse than this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Inn on Ferry street does not actually rent to people under 21.  
> As always I love comments and or messages.  
> [tumblr](http://cgcoconutgun.tumblr.com)


	5. Wenn Ich Tanzen Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri gains confidence, and he goes on a date with Victor.

“Your free leg, Yuuri, you always stiffen your free leg.” Celestino called out from the side of the rink.

“Yes, coach. Sorry, coach.” He called back willing himself to loosen up. He went into a triple salchow and landed it perfectly. 

“Your jumps could use more work as well.” Celestino informed him.

“Yes, coach. Sorry, coach.” He squeezed at his fingers. He was not going to cry. He _was not_ going to cry. He’d done enough of that during the past two weeks. 

He hadn’t thought it possible, but he was now under more restrictions than ever before. He had to check in with photographic evidence when he got home, he had to send photographic evidence when he was in class, he had to be personally escorted to practice sessions by either his coach or a random member of his skating company. On weekends, he had to personally Skype someone every three hours from his dorm room to prove where he was at and what he was up to. His coaching fees had been increased by twenty percent. 

Yuuri was...thankful. He really was. After what he’d done, he had expected to be screamed at, thrown aside, maybe even sued. Instead he got...this. Yeah, he couldn’t go to the grocery store now without prior approval, and he had to set an alarm for both one and four in the morning to check in and prove he was home, but he was fine. He was fine. He was better than fine. He should be on his knees thanking his coach and company for not reporting him to the police. He was aiming to qualify for the Grand Prix Final for the first time this year. Yes, he knew, deep down, that the real reason they had not reported him to the police for underage drinking had been ~~the DPD had better things to do~~ it would cause a scandal and reflect badly upon the company, but he liked to pretend it was done as a final sign of mercy and forgiveness to Yuuri himself. 

He prepared to have a go at a triple salchow again. He wished he could try something more difficult. He knew he could land quads if he was only allowed to try, and there was one in particular he was really antsy to test out.

“Your form would be more sturdy if you brought your back arm up by about three inches.” A voice that was not his coach spoke up. “It’s throwing off your center of gravity. That’s probably what your coach is complaining about.”

He fell. A gloved hand reached out to him to help him stand. Yuuri took it and let himself be pulled up. Victor released his hand as soon as he was up on his feet. “Sorry.” He spoke. “I can announce myself next time, it was just...you seemed frustrated. I thought I could help. Sorry.” 

Victor didn’t have his usual coat on now. His right hand was gloveless. Even so, he still looked ~~more beautiful~~ more put together than Yuuri felt. He glanced behind Victor to see if his coach had noticed he wasn’t practicing right now. He was staring at him intensely, but wasn't yet making his way over to say anything about it. 

“Oh, and also sorry again for the other day. Really I…” Victor started, bare hand rubbing at the back of his head.

“Skate around the rink with me.” Yuuri cut in and didn’t wait for an answer before he started skating away. He wanted it to at least appear like he was still practicing. Not needing real skates, Victor quickly caught up to him and began to skate by his side. He braced himself for more apologies to come; that was all Victor seemed to be able to do now. The past two weeks with Death had been...not awkward. He would not put that label on it. More like, different. He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad different. 

The day after he had woken up hungover in his hotel room, he and Phichit had marathoned bad kung-fu movies from the 70’s and stuffed their faces with raw baby carrots ( _No Yuuri, it’s my fault, I was the bad influence. I’ll go on your diet now with you, okay?_ ). Phichit had been apologetic and sympathetic, but he didn’t, couldn’t, know the full story. It wasn’t entirely Victor’s fault. It's not like he’d made him get wasted, directly at least, but how would he divulge to his friend that the most thrilling and possibly most romantic night of his life had been with Death himself, and to top it all off he couldn’t even remember any of it. He couldn’t, that’s how. As if on cue, halfway through their marathon, there’d been a knock on the door. Phichit didn’t notice; he couldn’t. Yuuri’d gotten up to answer the door. Victor had shown up on his doorstep bearing a fresh vase of roses, beaming. _To replace the ones I know died recently._ He had said. Yuuri had burst into tears on the spot. Seeing Victor so enthusiastic after Yuuri’s life had just been tossed out, it was unfair. It was draining. So he cried. He had cried, and stepped into the hall so Phichit couldn’t hear, then, _god he was so weak,_ cried some more. Victor apologized, and apologized again, and begged Yuuri to tell him what he’d done wrong. _I’ll fix it Yuuri, I swear. I’ll do whatever. I’ll do anything for you, please._ He had said. Before he could process his own actions, he found himself hugging Victor, and after the initial shock, Victor was hugging him back. He divulged all. Victor listened, rubbing small circles on his back the entire time. After he finished, Victor apologized once more then encouraged him to quit skating. He was furious at that. If he wasn’t a skater, then who was he supposed to be? Victor’s response of ‘Katsuki Yuuri’ did nothing to persuade him.

“I brought you a gift.” Victor interrupted his thoughts about the previous weeks.

He nearly tripped; Victor caught him. Celestino didn’t notice. “I saw it at a store in Japan the other day, and it reminded me of you. I don’t really have money though, so I kind of stole it, but…”

Yuuri blushed and turned his face away; the ice suddenly became very interesting to look at. Even though he couldn’t remember the details, he still knew something had happened between Victor and Drunk Yuuri that night. He’d seen the pictures, and he could put two and two together. Someone had brushed his teeth, ordered breakfast for him, and he’d gotten back to a hotel room miles away without so much as a blister the next morning. So _something_ had happened. Judging from the fact that he woke up fully clothed with a hotel key in the front of his pants, he knew it hadn’t gone too far. He also knew no one could physically kiss Victor without dying. He wasn’t dead, he didn’t think, so they hadn’t even reached first base either. Yet still, he had to wonder just what had gone on. Were they dating now? Victor certainly acted like it. He didn’t think anyone would enjoy dating sober him; he was never as fun. In addition, Victor was far too attractive to be in Yuuri's league. He thought he should probably ask at some point whether they were a thing or not just to get a clear picture, but what if that weren’t the case, and he just made everything weird between them. They’re friends now, or at least close enough to what he would call friends. He didn’t need to ruin that with silly questions. And if Drunk Yuuri _had_ decided to start dating Victor…

“Here, take it. Well, I guess you can’t take it now. Your coach would notice, but I’ll put it over by your stuff?” He turned back to see Victor holding a stuffed tissue box of a brown poodle.

“How morbid. A stuffed animal of the dog you stole from me.” It was the first thought that came to his mind. Actually, his first thoughts had been ‘where were you hiding that,’ but they weren't what he’d said. He wished he could take it back as soon as the words had left his mouth.

Victor’s arms slumped, fingers squeezing the tissue box unnecessarily tight. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. It was rude of me.” 

He reached out and took the tissue box. _Stop being such a terrible friend._ “N...No. I like it. Thank you.” 

He took the stuffed dog and stroked its fur. _Soft._ Yuuri smiled.

“Yuuri what the hell are you doing? Where did that come from?” His coach was making his way over now understandably angry at the sudden appearance of a stuffed dog.

“Nothing, coach. Sorry, coach. I’ll take care of it coach.” He skated over to the side and tossed the tissue box over the half wall surrounding the rink. It landed next to his shoes and blue coat.

“I don’t like the way you’re treated here.” Victor stated. “You should find another company or skate coachless.” Victor was frowning as Yuuri made his way back over.

He rolled his eyes and internally groaned. He’d had this conversation about taking control of his career with both Phichit and Yurio several times before over the last two years, but the contract was solid, and he could either skate with this company or not at all. “Oh okay. You don’t like it? What to do then? Oh, I know. I'll just tell my coach Death is going to steal his soul if I’m not treated better. We’ll see how long it takes for them to lock me up.”

Victor stared wide eyed until Yuuri gave him a faint smile. Then he laughed. “You almost had me there m- Yuuri.”

 _Oh._ He had caught that. He hadn’t called him ‘my Yuuri’ since after that night. He wondered what had happened to change it. He liked it. 

They skated a few more laps in silence before he went back to practicing actual routines. Victor gave him guidance and pointers on his jumps, which apparently satisfied Celestino since he had no comments to make on his form anymore. For the first time in a long while, he felt calm from skating, and he remembered why he’d gotten into the sport in the first place.

That is, until Victor had to leave for an ‘appointment.’ ( _I’ll be back in an hour tops, Yuuri. Unless you don’t want me to. Then I’ll be back in no hours tops. Wait infinite hours tops? Hold on, I’ll get this._ ) He hadn’t realized just how relaxed he’d been feeling with Victor there, but now it was as if Celestino could feel his absence as well. For as soon as Victor was gone, he began berating Yuuri again for every nitpicky thing. He had to bite down on his cheek hard. He was not going to cry. He could feel blood on his tongue now. He was not going to cry. 

As soon as practice was over Yuuri grabbed his belongings from a bench and ran to the locker room. He cried. _You’re so stupid and so weak. What’s wrong with you. It’s just skating practice. God, how pathetic._ He was shaking now. He couldn’t stand. He squeezed the stuffed poodle and sobbed into it ignoring the fact that it had tissues inside. 

“Yuuri?” 

Oh god, no he couldn’t let his coach see him like this. That didn’t reflect his supposed ‘pure, innocent’ image at all. He couldn’t get in trouble again. He responded by sobbing louder. _Stupid, stupid._

“Yuuri?” It wasn’t his coach. Oh well, it wasn’t like Victor hadn’t seen him cry before. “Oh, oh, no. Yuuri. God, I still really don’t know what to do in these situations. Oh, god.” His arms hesitantly wrapped around him as he crumpled down on the floor next to him. He began rocking him back and forth. “It’s okay. Let it out.” He did so. He sobbed until nothing was left, and the shaking stopped. Victor continued to hold him but said nothing. Yuuri spoke first.

“T..Thanks. I...I’m not like this all the time, I swear. Sometimes, I just.. I can’t help it.”

Victor squeezed him tighter. “Are you on medications? I think it could help.”

He pulled himself out of Victor’s arms, but he remained on the floor. “Why so I can overdose, and you can finally take me?” He half joked. 

Victor blinked. “Was that a joke? That’s not funny. I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it.”

Yuuri hadn’t known it, but he said nothing.

“I’m serious, Yuuri. I can give a personal recommendation for a therapist too. She doesn’t like me too much, fear of Death and all you know, but she can see me, so you could talk to her about everything. You can tell her I sent you, she won’t be too happy about it, but she’ll take you on. She does prescriptions too. Oh and over the phone…” He was reaching into his front pants pocket now and pulling out a business card.

He put a hand on Victor’s shoulder to stop him. Victor paused. “I….I don’t think I could go through with something like that. I don’t want people to see me as weak, especially if it was discovered I had to take medication for my mental weakness. My skating company would flip out too. Victor, I’d die. Okay bad choice of wording there, but…”

He shoved the card into his hand. “You’re not weak, Yuuri. No one that knows you well enough would ever say something like that.” He gave a reassuring smile. “If not for yourself, then do it for me, please?”

He gave in and took the card. “I’ll do it for myself.”

* * *

Yuuri hadn’t been back to Russia since the first time he’d met Yurio. As he failed to place at that competition, he actually hadn’t traveled much at all since then. Guilt. _I should really visit home._ He was grateful though that he’d been assigned to the Rostelecom Cup for a second time. He hadn’t seen Yurio in person in a while, and it’d be nice to catch up. Or get yelled at. Most likely both. He rocked back on his heels. Yurio had agreed to meet him out in the lobby after he finished his short program, but the blonde kid was no where to be seen right now. He knew he was here today. Both him and Victor had been in the stands cheering him on, although Victor had been far more enthusiastic and vocal about it than Yurio. He had done well in his short program too, third place after everyone had gone, and he was only behind the first place Swiss skater by three points. As this was his second qualifying event, and since he had come in second at the last one, he only needed to place on the podium in order to move onto the Grand Prix Final now.

Yuuri sighed hand resting at his side. The weight of his anxiety medication weighed heavily in his pocket. He’d gotten permission to go on it from his coaches so he shouldn’t feel guilty, but he did. He knew they disapproved. They didn’t even try to keep that a secret. They’d made sure to inform him he was not to be seen in public taking anything. They didn’t care that it was legal; it would ruin his image. Well-behaved people didn’t need to take medications, they'd said. He knew this. He should have never agreed to see a psychiatrist. 

“Hey, Katsudon. What’s your issue? Stop staring at the wall like that, it’s creeping me out.” Yurio was stomping towards him. He looked happy. Well, he looked happy for Yurio.

He perked up but tried not to let his shoulders fall when he noticed Victor was not trailing behind the kid. “Where’s…”

“Your stupid fucking boyfriend?” He interrupted. Yuuri’s cheeks went pink. “He said he had some stuff to attend to or some shit. Which means he had to go murder someone. He also said to tell you you did great, or whatever.” He started to thank him, only to be cut off once more. “I disagree though. You sucked. What was with those presentation scores? I thought I told you to stop skating to this youthful innocence crap. It’s not you, and you can’t pull it off well. I want to compete against you as soon as I’m fifteen, but I can’t do that if you fucking suck. So stop.”

The weight of his medications in his pocket seemed to increase tenfold. “I know, it’s just my company-”

“Then get a new company!” He stared him down. He got up on his toes to make sure they were as close to eye-to-eye level as possible. He sure seemed big for a twelve year old in an old ratted hoodie.

“I can’t just get a new company. I’m under some dumb contract I signed when I was eighteen.” He had never told Yurio the details of how he got into skating. He rarely talked about it with anyone. It wasn’t exactly something that sat as a happy memory with him. 

Yurio considered him before stepping back down to his normal height. “Where was it signed at.” He made it a statement instead of asking a question.

“What?” He didn’t want to talk about his contract. He’d been young(er) and stupid. “I don’t know, it was in Japan, I guess, but...”

“You guess? No. Not good enough. Where. Was. It. Signed. At?” He was pointing a finger at him now. 

“Japan.” He recalled and stepped away from Yurio’s accusatory pointing. “It was definitely Japan.” 

“Would you still want to skate if you had a different company, or if you were alone?” He had yet to put down his hand. He was scowling. What had Yuuri said wrong?

“What kind of question is that? Of course…” He began, and Yurio finally relaxed fully setting his hands into his pockets.

“Meet me back here tomorrow before your free skate starts.” He said. “Don’t be late. Oh, and while you’re taking my advice, can you chill the hell out with courting literal Death. I said be careful not screw him, pig.”

Then Yuuri watched confused as the blonde kid stormed off pulling his hoodie up over his head and pulling tight at the strings as he marched outside into the cold Russian air.

* * *

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. He was shaking. He needed to place on the podium to move to the final. He needed to, but he couldn’t stop shaking. He’d already taken one of his anxiety pills today, so he couldn’t take another so soon. Yurio wasn’t here yet. He’d promised he’d be here, but he had to go on in fifteen minutes, and Yurio wasn’t here. He tried to breathe. 

A stack of white copy paper was shoved into his face. He managed to breathe out and shoved the papers down.

“Oi, don’t mess them up. I was at the library all morning printing this shit out.” Yurio picked up the few pieces that had fallen and put them back in order.

“You came.” He felt himself relax. 

“Of fucking course I did, pig. Now are you going to read these over, or just stare at me like some creep?” He offered the stack again.

He took the stack of papers in his hands. It was a mix of English and Japanese. Everything was either some form of a boring article or lists of laws about the age of majority. “What does this have to do with anything? Yurio, I have to go on soon.”

“Are you really that dense? Can you not read? What does it say on there?” He pushed the papers further up into his face.

He looked it over once more. “It says the age of majority for everything except voting is twenty in Japan. Yeah, so what? So, I’ve been able to vote in my country for two years now, what does that matter?”

Yurio ‘tsked’ at him and kicked at the ground. “What age did you sign that contract?”

The realization dawned on him “Eighteen, I think. No, I know. It was eighteen. My parents didn’t consent, and I was eighteen.”

Realizing he finally understood, he smiled up at him. “And what have you told me almost daily whenever you want to whine like a bitch that you hate most in the world?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I hate feeling trapped, people telling me what to do, and not having control of my life.”

Yurio began pushing him toward the arena. “Yeah? So go out there and skate however the hell you want. Take control of yourself.”

After giving the papers back to Yurio for the time being, he went and did just that.

* * *

**Rising Figure Skating Star Yuuri Katsuki Wins Court Battle Against His Former Skating Company**

A scandal recently erupted in the world of skating after it was discovered that a few certified skaters had been, in their words, taken advantage of when they were minors. Brought to attention after a Yuuri Katsuki of Japan filed a lawsuit against the company he signed on with which was located in the United States two years ago, more skaters have been stepping forward since. Katsuki, who surprised the world and is now known for being the first skater in history to land a ratified quad flip after winning the Rostelecom Cup two months prior, was eighteen at the time the contract was signed. The age of majority being twenty in Japan, Katsuki was able to provide proof that his contract was indeed drafted, signed, and officiated in the country where he would have been considered a minor. A Judge Tanaka of the local Japanese embassy therefore ruled in favor of voiding his contract, effective immediately. “It’s despicable that something like this would happen to someone fresh out of high school.” The judge commented during the court proceedings. “I’m relieved Mr. Katsuki was not in the states and therefore not of age when this happened.” The contract, among other things, was criticized for specifically disallowing Katsuki to take prescription medications in public, something that Katsuki has since been very vocal about needing for his mental health. This specific section of the contract has been aligned to emotional abuse by professional psychiatrist Browman Knight of New Center Community Mental Health of Detroit. Katsuki’s old company has yet to give a public comment. Continued on page four...

* * *

Yuuri’s twenty first birthday came and went, for the most part, uneventfully. Phichit had tried to rope him into throwing a, now legal, celebration, but he had turned him down. He had a Grand Prix Final to win, and especially without a coach, partying wasn’t going to help accomplish that.

“Yuuri, I’m so proud of you.” Victor commented and set the newspaper onto the floor as Yuuri stretched his calves.

“Victor, I know. You said that months ago. Everyone’s proud of me. My parents called the other day and said they didn’t understand what was going on but they’d heard from Mari that I’d become a champion of something.” Yuuri had to resist the urge to play with his slicked back hair. He couldn't mess up his costume before he'd even performed.

“Yes, but I wanted to make sure you knew _I_ was proud of you. Now the whole world knows how amazing you are. You know, they’re saying you might become the best figure skater in history what with that quad flip and all. Where’d you even learn to do that?”

He grinned and took Victor’s shoulder for support as he removed his shoe. “It’s just a secret move I do occasionally. Don’t dwell on it too much.” He remembered his first conversation with Victor so many years ago. 

He chuckled. “Well still, the world’s impressed. I’m impressed.”

He popped his other shoe off and removed his hand from Victor’s shoulder. “I didn’t do it for you or for anyone else. I did it for me. I wanted to win for me.”

“Of course you did. Just like you changed your entire routine, costumes, music, and theme less than two months before the final today. When you want something you get it, right? Are you ever going to tell me what your new theme is by the way? I mean not that I don’t like being surprised, but you haven’t even shown me your outfit...” Victor whined.

Yuuri resisted the urge to blush. He had no one to blame for this except himself. He’d wanted to do something completely opposite of his old image, and after scrolling through the pictures from the party Phichit and him had went to…

“You’ll find out soon enough.” 

He heard his name called out. The crowd cheered. He shrugged out of his warm up jacket and tossed it over a nearby bench. Victor’s mouth hung agape. Yuuri’s outfit was all black with a half skirt. He smirked; this was the reaction he’d been hoping for when he’d commissioned this. He stepped onto the ice and felt a burst of confidence run through him. He turned around and pulled Victor by the tie toward him. “If I win today, you have to be good and leave Yurio alone for a whole day.” He whispered only half joking into Victor’s ear.

Victor let out a breath he probably hadn’t needed to take. “I’ll do you one better, if you win I’ll leave Yurio alone for an entire day... and I’ll take you on a date.” 

He almost broke character then and there, but he didn’t. Instead he released his tie and turned around to skate to the center of the rink. “Don’t you dare take your eyes off me.” He called back to Victor. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Was the response he got back.

* * *

Victor was excited. No, he was ecstatic. No he was going to bounce so hard he vibrated himself through the ground and into the molten center of the world. Yuuri, his beautiful perfect Yuuri, had agreed to go on a date with him. No, not his Yuuri, he reminded himself. Never _his_ Yuuri. He belonged to himself, but regardless still this was a real date! He had used the word ‘date,’ and Yuuri had agreed. He had been scared at first that he wouldn’t keep his end of the bargain after he’d won or would argue he had never specifically said ‘yes,’ which was true, but they were here now, and that’s all that mattered. He was determined to make this an amazing time. This would be their first of many perfect dates. Sure, they couldn’t kiss, and sure, he had never replaced the other glove Yuuri had lost or the coat he’d vomited on. So, despite spending time doing his hair in a ponytail today, he knew he looked a tad bit disheveled. Especially compared to Yuuri in his gorgeous blue sweater and khakis that clung just a _bit_ too tight at the hips, but he knew that beautiful Yuuri wouldn’t care how he appeared. He didn’t think beautiful Yuuri would care how he appeared. He really hoped beautiful Yuuri wouldn’t care how he appeared. 

They reached the local Detroit rink together. The door was locked, of course, but that didn’t stop him. 

“Stop trying to add breaking and entering to my growing list of crimes I’ve committed.” Yuuri scolded as he held the door open for him.

“Ah, but you didn’t do it; I did. What are the police going to do, arrest Death?” Victor said and closed the door behind them.

“No, they’ll just arrest me since no one will be able to see you.” He teased.

He sung quietly to himself and made no comment on that. Instead, he pranced over to the front counter and pulled off a single pair of skates from the rental rack. 

“I know they’re not your usual and not broken in, but since it’s just the two of us messing around, I didn’t think it mattered.” He hesitated in handing the skates over. What if Yuuri hated him now for not fetching his personal skates and their perfect date was ruined? 

Yuuri took the skates in hand and tried them on, calming his fears. They fit well enough from what he could tell. Yuuri allowed him to take his arm, and they made their way over to the rink together. They skated in circles a few laps before Yuuri broke away to try actual moves. He did a drag, and Victor watched in awe before quickly moving to copy him. He could never hope to have such mesmerizing step sequences like Yuuri did, but by copying him he could at least pretend they were performing together. He got faster at picking up the cues on what Yuuri was about to go into next. After a while, it became almost like they were in perfect sync.

“It’s as if we’re pair skating together.” Yuuri commented after they both came up from another drag within seconds of each other.

He liked the idea of that. Holding Yuuri, doing his favorite activity, supporting each other. “We could try. We basically are already, all it would take now is adding a couple jumps maybe some lifts.” 

He looked up at him and gave a disapproving look. “I’m too short to lift you, and you’d drop me in three seconds flat.”

“You wound me, Yuuri. I could lift you. I’m strong.” He skated over and hugged Yuuri from behind.

“Fine.” He gave in. “We can try. Once. Only once though, and you’re going to drop me. I just know it.” 

Yuuri was wrong. He did not drop him. At least, he did not drop him in three seconds flat. It took five seconds; he had been counting. The two laid on the ice next to each other after their fall. He played with his hair. He hoped he wasn’t too mad at him. Yuuri’s gaze was focused on the ceiling above them. He started shaking. The shaking increased. _Oh._ Yuuri was laughing. Victor joined in, and they laughed together on the cold ice for what he hoped would last all eternity.

 

They walked along the sidewalk together. He reached out to hold Yuuri’s hand. Yuuri’s hand twitched as an initial gut reaction, but he reached back and linked their hands together immediately afterward. Victor literally shivering from excitement at the contact, as if they hadn’t just been arm in arm the entire time they’d skated, smiled and squeezed his hand. 

“Oh, are you cold?” He asked tripping over a stick on the ground but catching himself at the last second. “Where’s that black coat you usually have on anyway?”

He stopped walking. Yuuri, hand linked in his, was forced to stop as well. 

“Yuuri, you don’t remember? You vomited on it after you, in your own words got ‘ so plastered your soul ascended to another level of being.’"

He watched as Yuuri’s face turned the brightest shade of red. He loved watching Yuuri blush. Yuuri unlinked their hands. “I.. I only remember bits and pieces from that night. I was so wasted. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Victor. Wait, here.” He was shrugging out of his own dark blue coat and handing it to him. He stared at it. “Take it. Please, it’s the least I can do now that we’re..friends and all.”

He raised an eyebrow as he accepted the jacket. “Friends, hmm? Is that what we are?”

He buried his face in his hands and began stuttering more apologies. He could watch this forever, but as much as he loved teasing Yuuri, he did want to continue their perfect date. He put on the coat, it was tighter than what he was normally used to, but it was perfect. It was from Yuuri, so it couldn’t be anything less. “Oh, but now you’ll be cold.” He wrapped his arm around Yuuri’s shoulder and pulled him in. “That’s better.” 

Yuuri’s ears were pink now too. Victor could die. Figuratively. They passed by a couple walking their dog, and Yuuri laughed as it decided to pummel him and attack his face with kisses. The couple apologized profusely, but Yuuri would have none of it. After he finished petting the dog, the couple went on their way, and he helped Yuuri off the ground. They linked hands once more.

“I want six dogs someday.” Yuuri stated as they moved on and continued walking down the sidewalk.

“Six? Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?” He teased.

“No, six is the perfect number. You’ll probably kill a couple anyway so that ensures I’ll always have at least one.” Yuuri said without so much as glancing over his way.

Victor dropped their hands. How could Yuuri say something like that, especially now. This was supposed to be their perfect date. “I never killed your…” He started to argue. He hadn’t killed Vicchan. He’d taken him. There was a difference. There had to be a difference. He didn’t know if there was a difference, or if it mattered.

“I was joking, Victor.” Yuuri said reaching back for his hand again. He did not accept his hand; he didn’t find it funny. “I’ve forgiven you for that a while ago.” Yuuri added. He was lying. He knew he was lying, but this was their perfect date so he would ignore it. _For Yuuri._ He reminded himself. _For Yuuri._ He accepted his hand. 

They walked in silence for a what seemed like hours. It was five minutes, tops. 

“How do you decide who sees you?” Yuuri breaks through the quiet air around them. 

He was taken aback. Yuuri almost never asked him about his ongoings. He had assumed he’d never want to know. “I don’t. I never have. Do you really think I would only pick people that are scared shitless of me, a small angsty thirteen year old, and you? Okay, I would pick you for sure, but the others…” He said and heard Yuuri laughing quietly next to him. 

“Yeah I guess that makes sense. If Yurio found out you hand picked him, he’d probably try to strangle you, then explode afterward.”

He joined in laughing at the picture that provided. Yuuri squeezed his hand.

They ended up stopping at a small diner that specialized in American cuisine. By American cuisine, that meant greasy burgers and fries. It’s what Yuuri craved now that he could eat whatever he wanted, and Victor didn’t care where they went. He could eat when he really wanted to, but he didn’t have to, and he didn’t do it enough to have a cuisine preference. Besides, he’d chosen not to eat anything today, wanting to spare Yuuri from explaining disappearing bits of food across the table from him. Victor would pay for it anyway, or he would give Yuuri money to pay for it. He hoped he didn’t ask where the money came from. Although he had a hunch Yuuri knew he’d just stolen it.

Yuuri mumbled something in between chewing bits of his burger. Victor laughed as a piece of bun fell out of his mouth and onto the table.

“You’re going to have to repeat yourself there, darling.” He said with an added wink. 

Yuuri’s confidence in flirting was apparently limited to when he was on the ice. Upon seeing him wink, he nearly choked on his food and had to down a glass of water before continuing. It was beautiful.

“I said how do you know who’s next on your list? You always talk about ‘appointments,’ but is that a scheduled thing? Like do you have a spreadsheet of everyone that’s next and assign them to whomever?”

He was taken aback at Yuuri’s newfound interest in his ongoings and had to think on how to explain that. No, he didn’t have a spreadsheet, but there was a list. It wasn’t physical though. It was just in his head. If one of his assistants took on the case, the name would appear crossed off. The list was infinite. 

“I don’t know if I can show you…” He began but panicked as he saw Yuuri’s face begin to fall. “But I can tell you! It’s not physical, you see. It’s just this image we all, my assistants and myself, have in our heads. We can check it at any time too.”

Yuuri sat up in curiosity, and he continued while playing with a napkin on the table.

“For the most part, I ignore it. I don’t do a lot of the cases myself being you know king of it all or whatever. I mostly just assign them out to others, but I do occasionally take on some.” 

“Like mine when I was a kid.” He stated.

“Like yours.” He conceded.

Curiosity sated, Yuuri went back to eating his burger. The waitress came by and refilled his cup. He sighed contently and gazed out the window so he didn’t have to stare at Yuuri eating. He hoped he’d explained the list properly to him. It was such a foreign concept to put into words. He let his mind wonder as he heard Yuuri slurping water through a straw.

Only now Victor couldn’t move. On reflex, he’d started scanning the list in his head. He really hadn’t meant to. Thousands of names popped up in his head on the spot, but two in particular stood out.

Almost no one ever died in Hasetsu. It was such a small, boring town. The population was healthy enough that accidents were the main way people went. The same way Hiroko and Toshiya Katsuki had just went less than ten minutes ago.

Yuuri noticed him freeze up and reached out across the table to grabbed his glovless hand. “Hey, are you okay? Sorry, if that was a dumb thing for me to ask. Victor?” 

He would not cry. Unlike Yuuri, he rarely did so, and it would only clue Yuuri in onto what he had just read. He had to tell him. He had to. It was better than hearing it from someone else first. He was Death himself dammit; Yuuri needed to hear it from him. Only he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. This was supposed to be their perfect date. Where had he gone wrong? This was supposed to be their perfect date.

“Victor?” Yuuri started again. His phone started ringing. Yuuri silenced it. It rang again. Yuuri went to check it this time. “Oh, it’s Mari. We rarely talk though, so why would she…?”

It was supposed to be their perfect date. “Yuuri please don’t answer that.” He managed to get out. It had taken all the energy he’d had in him. The phone stopped ringing only to start up again with the same contact name and number displayed.

“Victor, I’m going to answer it. Mari never calls me especially this often unless something's up.” Yuuri let go of his hand. Victor would give anything to have that contact back now.

 _Please don’t answer that now Yuuri._ He couldn’t get words out. _I have to tell you. I have to be the one to tell you._ Yuuri didn’t manage to get to the phone before it stopped ringing, but it didn’t matter. The phone lit up again with a new text. His face went blank, expressionless as he read it. He set down the phone on the table. 

“I don’t understand.” Yuuri began. “You were sitting across from me the entire time! I just don’t understand. How did you do it!” Yuuri demanded. He didn’t cry. Victor might. It was supposed to be their perfect date. Yuuri was attracting the attention of others in the diner as he yelled at what they presumed was an empty booth seat. He couldn’t move. 

“Was this entire date just a distraction? You knew this was going to happen today didn’t you?” Yuuri continued when he didn’t answer.

“God, no how could you think that?” He managed to finally say words. They were the wrong ones.

Yuuri was clinging to his phone, knuckles white. “Victor spare them.” He said flatly. “I know you can. You spared me so just. Don’t kill them, please?”

He wished he could. God, did he wish he could, but he wasn’t supposed to do that, ever. He wasn’t supposed to do it with Yuuri all those years ago. Besides, the names had been crossed out. They had been gone for a while now. Kissed by one of his assistants and whisked away.

“I can’t. Yuuri, I can’t.” His voice was weak. This was supposed to be their perfect date.

“Like hell you can’t! You did it for me, so why am I special? Victor. Spare. Them. What, is it because you want to fuck me? Is that it? Is that why I was your exception?”

He wished Yuuri had just punched him. That would have hurt less.

“You were ten years old, Yuuri. You know that wasn’t it.” He could move now, but it didn’t make a difference. “Do you really want to know why I spared you?” Oh, Victor guessed he was really going to admit this out loud. “I spared you because you didn’t hate me, okay? I broke the rules and spared you because I had no friends, and you didn’t hate me.” He paused and waited for Yuuri to say something. He didn’t. So Victor went on. “God, I was so bored, and you even inspired me. Oh, and if you want to know if I regret it because you hate me now, the answers no. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and I would do it all a thousand times over.”

He reached out for his hand. Yuuri pulled back. 

“Goodbye, Victor.”

Victor didn’t try to argue. He simply stood and left. Who cared anyway if it was supposed to be their perfect date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over on tumblr [here](http://cgcoconutgun.tumblr.com) If ya want


	6. Totenklage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some things have to get worse before they can get better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for suicidal thoughts in this chapter. They're not explicit, but I want people to have a heads up Yuuri doesn't start this out in a good place if they need that. It gets better though.

Gold, Silver, and Bronze were currently not happy hamsters. The were squealing in their cage demanding to be let free. Yuuri wished he could let them out, he really did, but at the moment he and Phichit had stacks of chips, pizza, chocolate, and buttered popcorn thrown all over their dorm room floor, some of it literally on the floor, not even in bowls. They were having what Phichit referred to as ’well deserved rest time.’ Yuuri was tired. He thought of this as more of a distraction, but he liked to play along. Phichit kept complaining that he never did anything but practice skating. Yuuri thought it was important to do so, but he didn’t disagree. 

Since his win at the Grand Prix Final last year, he had done almost nothing except practice. Day in and day out, he could be found more often at a rink than his home. He was a firm believer that hard work and dedication would make him succeed, and he certainly wasn’t going to complain that it kept his mind off...other things. But as Phichit had pointed out, it wasn’t working too well for him so far. Despite being the fan favorite to win, he had come in fifth in Japanese nationals and didn’t even qualify for Worlds last season. He didn’t know what he was doing wrong. At nationals, his jumps were flawless. He landed two quad flips, which were now considered his signature move, in the second half of his performance. It was just his presentation scores had plummeted. He had been performing the same routine he’d won at the Grand Prix Final with. He’d even rejected the idea of lowering the difficulty for nationals because he wanted to keep the routine strong as a whole, so he didn't understand why he couldn't get his scores up to at least the level they’d been at before.

_Yes you do._ A voice in his head argued. He told it to shut up. _He_ wasn’t the reason. Victor had tried talking to him so many times after what happened. Death kept trying to apologize and apologize and sometimes wanted to just be near him, but he would have none of it. But even after Victor took the hint and disappeared off to wherever he goes, Yuuri still found himself performing poorly. He couldn’t use that as his excuse anymore. Yuuri was tired. He’d performed so terribly at nationals that he’d been checked over to see if he had a concussion. He didn’t, and Victor hadn’t been anywhere near him during that entire week. He had no excuse.

Now it was fall again, the start of a new season, and he had new routines to perform, new costumes to wear. Yet, despite picking out a new theme, his presentation scores were still far below his average, and that was dragging him down. He could just never seem to get in the right mood before his performance started. Despite this trend, he’d somehow managed to qualify for the Grand Prix Final once more, although only by pure luck, since he’d placed third at Skate Canada. 

Phichit had finally had enough of his antics after he’d walked in on Yuuri spending his twenty second birthday on an ice rink floor staring at the ceiling alone, feet covered in blisters. Yuuri was tired. Phichit nagged his head off on sight and practically carried him home by the ear that night. 

So here they were now, pigging out on the floor. Two weeks before his second Grand Prix Final, and he wasn’t even practicing for it. Yuuri was tired, and he needed to practice. But, no, he was shoving his face full of pepperoni pizza and ignoring the sound of the hamsters squeaking for a bite. No, for the sake of the hamsters’ waistlines and health, the two boys had decided the hamsters would not be roaming around free tonight. 

“We’ll have to continue to do this over Skype or something after I leave in February.” Phichit said after he reached over Yuuri to grab a handful of popcorn. He wobbled a bit, unsteady from leaning on one arm.

He moved the bowl over so Phichit didn’t have to risk face planting into the messy floor if he lost his balance. “What are you talking about?” 

“Yuuri,” he shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth and continued speaking in between his chews. “I graduate after this semester, remember?” 

He had not remembered. Okay, he did remember, but he didn’t want to. That had been the other part Phichit had, rightfully, nagged him about. By throwing himself into skating and doing almost nothing but, he had fallen behind in far too many classes. It started out excusable enough. During Yuuri’s contract fiasco, he had been forced to miss several classes to attend legal proceedings. Fine. That was excusable, but it only went downhill from there. He had no coach and no choreographer, so that had eaten up at class time as well. But, after a while, he had just stopped going to classes even when he was available. He was tired. It had actually hit full force right after… No. He wasn’t going to think about that now. 

So despite starting in the same year and grade, he would not be graduating the same semester as Phichit. It would take him two additional semesters now, if he was lucky. To make matters worse, he wasn’t great at making friends, and therefore Phichit had always been his best and only friend in Detroit. He wasn’t looking forward to a life of solitude after he left.

“Where are you moving to again?” He asked. He truthfully had forgotten the answer to that.

“Seattle. I took an offer from the parent company of one of the internships I had. It’s pretty lucrative too. You should come visit as soon as I’m done moving in, Yuuri! We could go on adventures together in the rain.” Pieces of popcorn fell from Phichit’s mouth as he bounced from excitement. He was honestly surprised he was still able to understand his friend with the amount of food in his cheeks right now.

But, Seattle. Yuuri had never been there. It could be nice, he supposed. He rarely traveled anywhere outside of skating competitions, and even then he never went sight seeing much; It was too expensive. He nodded in agreement at Phichit and handed him a paper towel. He took it and cleaned off his face.

He was glad Phichit had forced him to do this. He was tired, and the distraction was working. It was mostly working. It was working well enough that he didn’t think about skating ~~or Victor~~ more than once every fifteen minutes. The hamsters squeaked once more, and Phichit laughed. He wished he’d taken a picture. He wanted to remember what little time the two had left together.

* * *

Yuuri had packed them in his pocket. He _knew_ he packed his medications in his pocket. Yet here he was with less than thirty minutes to showtime at his second Grand Prix Final without anything in hand. _Breathe._ He told himself. _Breathe._ He must have left them in his hotel room. It was the only explanation. Phichit had triple checked for him that his medications had been in his luggage, so they definitely weren’t back in Detroit, but that did nothing for him now. He didn’t have time to go back to the hotel. He was so tired.

He clung desperately to his water bottle as he watched the skater up before him begin his routine. _Breathe._ He could feel the start of a panic attack begin to creep up. He was such an idiot. That was the _one_ thing that actually mattered to bring. He could survive without his skates; he’d buy new ones. He could survive without his costumes; he’d borrow some, but he could not _could not_ survive without his medication. He’d been taking them religiously for years now, and they always helped. How was he supposed to go on and perform so soon if he couldn’t breathe, and now he couldn’t stop shaking.

This was stupid. He was such a hypocrite, always speaking out in interviews about how important mental health was and now ignoring his own. His therapist would be so disappointed. This was all his fault. All his fault. Yuuri was so tired.

The skater up now just landed a quad flip. Oh, he guessed he couldn't claim that as solely his own move now. His knuckles were white now from his grip on the water bottle. The skater finished his routine and went to wait for his scores. Yuuri didn’t want to know what they were. He knew he couldn’t beat them. 

God, what was Yurio going to think. The teen had been on a roll all season and was a top contender to win the Junior division this year. As such, he was here watching him today, and he was going to see him and yell at him for being so stupid. Yuuri was so tired. He wished Yurio were down here with him now. He wished anyone were. He couldn’t do this. He had to do this, but he couldn’t. He was so tired. For the first time in two years, he wished he’d had a coach. At least then _someone_ could notice that he couldn’t stop shaking, even if they didn’t care. He heard his name called from the loudspeakers. His eyes were unfocused, but his name had been called. The world was spinning, but his name had been called. He had hoped to redeem himself by at least placing this year; he knew that wouldn’t happen now. He had to move.

Yuuri stepped out onto the ice. The cool air helped calm him a bit, but not much. The world stopped spinning, at least. He wished it hadn’t. His routine began, and he missed the musical cue to start. He was so tired. His step sequence was off count. He hadn’t stopped shaking fully and missed his first jump. He was so tired. He fell on his own signature move, a quad flip. The music came to a close as his routine ended. He wasn’t exhausted from his routine in the least bit, he had incredible stamina, but he fell onto the ice anyway. He thought he caught a glimpse of long silver hair in the crowd, but he didn’t care. He was so tired. He just wanted to go home.

* * *

“That’s the last of it, I think.” Phichit announced as he came back into their living room from carrying the final box of his clothes out to his car. 

The dorm was emptier now. There was an entire spare bedroom full of nothing but dust and bare space. More than half of the furniture and miscellaneous knick knacks had been Phichit’s. He traveled so much for competitions; he’d never really cared what furniture was around as long as he’d had a bed to come back to. Yuuri was tired. It was quiet. The hamsters had already been loaded into Phichit’s car, so there wasn’t even their squeaking to fill the empty space. 

“I’ll miss you.” He responded as Phichit checked the cabinets for anything he might have missed. He stopped when he heard that.

“Aw, Yuuri don’t sound like that. I’ll text you everyday, you know! And you’ll come and visit too, remember? Who knows, maybe someday you’ll move over there with me too! Hah, how fun would that be. Yuuri and Phichit livin’ it up in Seattle.” He was hugging him now. He hugged him back. Silence. Phichit broke it first. “Hey, after I leave, promise you’ll turn my old space into a trophy room, okay? I know you’re gonna win a thousand medals, so when you run out of spots that’s where you should put them.”

He released his grip on Phichit after his friend patted him on the back. He wasn’t going to use his old bedroom to display trophies and medals. If his performance at the last Grand Prix Final and Nationals were anything to go by, he was probably never going to win anything again. Yuuri was tired. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” He lied. He wasn’t going to drag his friend down with him.

It was dark outside in Detroit now. He had the lights off and was staring at the wall while lying on the floor with a blanket in the living room; Phichit had taken the couch. It was cold. Yuuri was tired. Spring break was coming up soon, but he was still behind on a couple projects. He supposed he should start working on them. It wasn’t like he had skating routines to practice this season or anything. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it; it was probably just Phichit telling him what hotel he’d stopped at for the night on his way to Seattle. His phone buzzed again. He pulled it out. Nothing from Phichit yet, just a weather alert, high wind advisory. He dismissed it, and now his phone showed nothing but the date and time. Eleven at night on February twenty eighth. He was tired. He stared at the screen. The date seemed important to him, and yet… _Oh._ It was March first in Russia now. Yurio’s fourteenth birthday was today. He unlocked his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and quickly sent a ‘happy birthday’ text to the teenager. He was going to close his eyes and finally go to sleep except he got an immediate response back.

 **Yurio:** Ru coming to the worlds  
**Yurio:** ?

He didn’t want to answer that. He was too tired. He couldn’t tell if Yurio was mocking him for failing so miserably this season. He wouldn’t put it past him. He was certain his sponsors would start fleeing soon. He sent back ‘no’ and turned his phone over. He couldn’t handle being made fun of by a fourteen year old right now. His phone buzzed. He was so tired. He flipped it over to read the response anyway.

 **Yurio:** I have an extra ticket.  
**Yurio:** Come watch

Oh, Yurio had meant the Junior Worlds, which he was competing in, and he had offered a ticket which meant he knew Yuuri hadn’t qualified. He pondered on the possibility of going to cheer on Yurio. He knew the dates already. It was over spring break, so he could go, but did he want to. _Yes of course you do. Yurio’s like one of two friends you have in the world. Go support him._ He was so pathetic. What twenty two year old only had a fourteen year old as half of his friend base. He began to research plane tickets.

* * *

The stadium was more packed than he thought it could be. Yuuri was tired. He chastised himself for hoping there wouldn’t be too many people here. This was a sold out prestigious competition, of course the stadium would be packed. He couldn’t express enough how thankful he was that Yurio had gotten him a pass allowing him to walk around the skater’s area instead of a ticket where he’d be pressed shoulder to shoulder on bleacher stands. ( _Yeah, well who else was I supposed to give it to? My grandpa who can’t do stairs let alone walk the distance from the parking lot?_ )

He watched one of the screens that was currently displaying nothing but commentary and the World logo. The competition hadn’t officially started yet. Yurio should be around here somewhere, but he just wanted to be where it was quieter right now. He was so tired. He pulled out his phone to check for any messages from the teen. Nothing except a selfie from Phichit showing off his new desk. It was covered in cartoons and hamster photos. He sent a thumbs up to that and put his phone back into his pocket. 

“Hey, Katsudon what are you doing down here?” _Ah._ Yurio had found him. 

“Nothing.” He admitted. It was true enough. 

“Well stop doing nothing, and come up to the rink. I didn’t get you a ticket to watch from a TV screen.” Yurio glared at him. He let him. He was too tired to do anything about it.

“What’s with you? Are you that upset your season’s over now? Just get over it and try again next season.” He hadn’t stopped glaring.

He said nothing, but he did develop a newfound interest for intently gazing at the wall. 

He stopped glaring, but now was eyeing him suspiciously. “You _are_ planning on returning next season, right?”

The wall was _very_ interesting to look at right now. There was a spot on it that was ever so slightly different colored than the rest of the paint surrounding it. He knew it was Yurio’s dream to compete against him and win. He shouldn’t let him know he might not ever be able to do that now. He was too tired.

“I’ll think about it.” He responded. That wasn’t a lie. He would think about it; he would think about how he was never going to come back to skating again.

Yurio wasn’t satisfied with that response. He was scowling now, but then again he rarely wasn’t. “Like hell you’ll ‘think about it.’ What’s that even supposed to mean. You either are, or you aren’t.” 

Yuuri hadn’t known he’d become a professional enthusiast for staring at splotches of slightly darker white paint on white walls, and yet here he was. He was so tired.

“Ugh, whatever. Just come up and watch me okay?” His tone had changed as he began walking away.

He lost all interest in staring at the paint. He faked a small encouraging smile to Yurio who returned that by rolling his eyes. He followed the teen up to the rink and wished him luck as he departed to go warm up. 

It was louder up here than he recalled. The warm ups were over now, and the first skater began his routine. It wasn’t Yurio, and he wasn’t as good so Yuuri only watched half interested. He was so tired. The skater tripped and fell, but he immediately recovered; his deductions wouldn’t be too heavy. He was so tired. The first skater finished and was replaced with the next up. It still wasn’t Yurio so he was not interested in the least bit. He was too tired. The second skater didn’t fall, but he did over-rotate on a jump and touched down on the ice. Yurio was up next. He gave him a weak ‘good luck’ call that he knew he couldn’t hear. He was tired. Yurio performed near perfectly. His jumps were flawless. He wasn’t allowed to attempt any quads yet, but he didn’t need them to win. He wondered how much Yurio was going to yell at him for not coming back next season. It’s not like he wouldn’t deserve it. If he hadn’t flubbed nationals so badly, he would be here now actually competing. Not in the Junior division of course, but at least Yurio wouldn’t have had to waste a ticket on him. 

_Oh._ It had just fully set in; if he hadn’t flubbed so badly he could have competed here. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that before; it was just now the realization was physically here in front of him. He could have, should have been here as a competitor. He was so tired. Despite having the ability to do so, he didn’t go to the kiss and cry to wait with Yurio for his scores; he already knew the teen would win. He went backstage to get away from the crowd instead. He was tired.

* * *

He sat on a bench in a hallway near the locker rooms as he waited for Yurio to be done interviewing. He absent mindedly played with his phone, swiping away at various apps. He was so tired, and he was so bored. He wished he could call Phichit right now, but he would be either leaving or getting ready to go now. It was a work day for him, and even Phichit wouldn’t dare to be late and leave a bad impression within his first month on the job. He wished Yurio would hurry up. He subconsciously knew he couldn’t really control the length of his post win interview, but that didn’t change how alone he felt right now. The corridor was empty save for Yuuri and a couple extra chairs. He had the impression people walking by down the adjacent hall could tell he wasn’t really texting anyone on his phone. They probably thought he looked pathetic sitting here alone like this. He wasn’t going to cry; he was too tired for that. He wanted to talk to someone, anyone right now in order to stay awake. He racked his brain for anyone he could call. Phichit was already a no. Yurio was currently interviewing, so no. Mari, maybe? No, she wouldn’t want to talk to him. They never did. She hadn’t even spoken verbally to him since their parents funeral. It was like one in the morning in Japan anyway which meant Minako was ruled out as well. He was so tired. A small and irritating part of him wished he could talk to.

“Victor.” He hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud until it was too late. He was too tired to care. 

As if on call, Victor was now sitting across from him. Except this wasn’t Victor, was it? Yuuri couldn’t read his expression like he normally could. There was no heart shaped smile on his face. It was stern, flat, solemn. He looked mostly the same except his hair was far shorter now; he had a fringe that covered one eye, and he seemed to have finally replaced his ever missing glove. He was still wearing Yuuri’s old dark blue coat. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this. 

Gaining the courage to do so, Yuuri was the first to speak. “You cut your hair.”

Victor’s expression lightened somewhat as he ran a hand through his now short locks.

“I was bored.” He responded. Yuuri shuffled his feet around the bench he was sitting on. They hadn’t been alone together in quite some time.

“I miss your long hair; I liked it.” He added desperate to say anything. This was weird, and he tired. He was so, so tired. 

“I don’t really care.” Victor lost his lightened expression. It put him on edge. Victor had never been this withdrawn around him before. “It was getting in my way, and I was bored. End of story.” He added. He avoided eye contact and adjusted one of his gloves, and when he decided that was sufficient he twiddled with the other one.

Yuuri was tired. He was so very tired. He was so very fucking tired. He just wanted it all to stop. He just wished he could stop being so damn tired all the time. 

“Victor, kiss me.” He decided. _Yes, this was the solution_. Victor stopped playing with his gloves.

“What?” Victor was looking him in the face now, but he kept his distance. 

“Kiss me.” He repeated himself. He hadn’t thought he’d stuttered. He wanted this. He was so very tired; he wanted this. He deserved this. Yuuri mustered up some energy. He stood from the bench now and was stepping closer to where Victor sat frozen in place.

“Why would you…” He began, but he didn’t let him finish.

“I’ve forgiven you for taking my dog and my parents.” He lied. He was so tired. It’s not like Victor would know. “If that’s what you’re worried about, then don’t. It’s in the past.” He reached out to hold Victor’s arm. Victor recoiled from his touch. He didn’t understand. He hesitantly backed away and sat back down on the bench across from him. He was too tired to remain standing for this.

“Yuuri, stop lying to me.” He knew. Of course he’d know he was lying. Whatever, it didn’t matter. Victor was rubbing at the spot on his arm Yuuri just touched as if it had burned. “I didn’t ‘take’ anyone, and we both know it. I’m Death. I killed them. I stole them from you. I’ve accepted that now. I think you should too.”

Yuuri ignored him. Victor was so beautiful. God, did he realize how beautiful he was? “Please, just once. I know you want to. You’ve always wanted to. I’m giving you permission now. Just, please, kiss me.” Couldn’t he see how tired he was? He was so, so tired.

“Yuuri, you’d die.” Victor stated. He’d stopped rubbing at his arm now, but he didn’t appear any more open toward him.

“Yeah, that’s the point.” Yuuri sighed. He was so tired. He tilted his chin upward and closed his eyes. He was so tired. He needed this. He knew Victor would do it too. He’d said before that he’d do anything for Yuuri. He had been, still probably was, infatuated with him. Victor was selfish and greedy. He knew all of this. He waited, but nothing ever came. He opened his eyes only to see Victor had moved farther away from him in the chair. He was now slumped over with his head down and was gripping at his knees. He came closer to see what was going on. He had to bring up his hand and lift up Victors bangs and get a better view. Victor allowed this and kept both his hands gripping his knees. There were crystal tears trickling down his cheeks now and onto the floor. They were beautiful. Oh, but Victor was crying. That didn’t make sense. Why was _he_ crying? His bangs felt heavy in his hand now.

“I didn’t expect to see you cry.” He stated. Victor smacked his hand away from his face.

“Yeah, well I’m angry, okay? I didn’t expect Katsuki Yuuri to be such a selfish person.” Victor’s voice was raised now, but it didn’t matter. They were basically alone here, and even if they weren’t, no one would be able to hear him.

“Selfish? Victor, what are you talking about?” Yuuri was so tired, and he was so confused. Why wouldn’t he just kiss him. It wasn’t like anyone would be around to see. “I’m offering myself to you. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Would you please kiss me already?”

Victor stood up now, furious. He began pacing along the wall. Yuuri didn’t know what to make of any of this.

“Is that what you think of me?” He said after he stopped pacing. “You think I’d enjoy killing people, especially you, like that?”

He said nothing. He was so tired. He had thought Victor would revel in the chance to do this.

“Did you even consider for one second how it would weigh on me to kill the only person I’ve ever considered a real friend, and prematurely at that?” He was tugging at his hair now and running his hands through it. _That would be easier if you hadn’t cut it._ He found himself thinking.

Out loud, he said nothing. 

“God, I don’t know if it makes it any better, but you don’t even know half the story. I brought you back before, remember? Twelve years ago, I brought you back. I wasn’t supposed to but I did anyway.” He waited. When Yuuri still said nothing, he went on.

“Well do you know what that did? No, of course you don’t.” Victor was down on his knees now. He took one of Yuuri’s hands into both of his and began rubbing circles onto his palm. Yuuri allowed it. He didn’t know if it was his or Victor's hands shaking, but he felt still. The skin to skin contact was strangely comforting. _When had he removed his gloves?_ “Now I can’t take you again, not before your new naturally scheduled time that is. I can’t do that to you. I couldn’t do that to anyone, let alone you. If I do, then I’ll destroy your soul along the way. That’s been the rule since forever now, but I brought you back anyway. Dammit Yuuri, I brought you back before; don’t you understand?”

“What are you talking about? That’s a stupid rule.” Yuuri spoke up. “Who made that anyway.”

Victor laughed shortly. He continued to rub circles into Yuuri’s hand. “Me. I did, Yuuri. A long time ago, I wanted to make sure none of my assistants ever messed with the list due to personal feelings so I attached that stigma. No one's ever broken it except me. Ironic, no?”

He was speechless yet again. Their latched hands had stopped shaking now.

“I love you, Yuuri. God, I love you so much it hurts, but I can’t have you like this. I don’t want you. Not like this.” He was moving to stand up now. On his way up, Yuuri felt a pair of lips press against the top of his head. “I’ll wait for you though. If you don’t want to wait for me too, then that’s fine, but I will wait for you until you’re ready. I’ll wait until the end of time if I have to. Until then goodbye, Yuuri.”

With that, he was gone. Yuuri sat alone once more in the empty hallway. It wasn’t until a breeze from an open door blew in and hit him on the face that it dawned on him what he’d just tried to do. 

He slunk to the floor. He tried to cry. He couldn’t. He needed to apologize. _Oh god._ He needed Victor back here, and he needed to apologize. But when he called out, no one came. He was met only by silence. He called out once more, but Victor did not come.

“Oi, pig, why the hell did the old man just haul me away from my coach and beg me to check on…” Yurio stopped when he saw him on the ground.

Yurio, that was his chance. He sat up and clung to the warm up jacket Yurio had on.

“Yurio, please. Get Victor. You have to tell him to come back. He won’t listen to me. I have to apologize to him.” 

He pushed him off. “Why the hell would I willingly seek him out? He’s so annoying. Granted, he did give me advice on landing a jump last week which helped me win today, but that was one time!”

The ground was so cold. He didn’t want to talk about skating right now. “Yurio. Please. I just asked him to kiss me, and I have to apologize, but he won’t let me. At least tell him for me, please. Yurio.”

“I’m not talking to him for you. Why would you do something that fucking stupid! Make out with someone else. He’ll kill you. Unless...Yuuri.” He had never called him by name before. “Yuuri, no. Why would you do that?” He was attempting to pull him onto his feet now. He resisted. He was content to remain down here. It was cold. Scoffing, Yurio stopped trying to help him up.

“Is this because of last year? You’re still mad he knocked off your parents or whatever?” He didn’t want to talk about skating right now, but he especially didn’t want to talk about this. He didn’t need anyone’s pity. “Get over yourself. You’re not special. He kills everyone's parents eventually. How the fuck do you think I met him the first time?”

“What?” He had been expecting condolences, not this.

“Ugh. I don’t want to tell this. I don’t need anyone to feel bad for me, but whatever. My parents were both sick. Really sick. Suffering sick. I was young, seven or eight, I don’t know. Old man showed up and stole them, end of story. To be honest, he was probably doing them a favor, but that doesn’t mean I like him! He was all pretentious about it and shit. When he noticed I saw him, he tried to apologize and everything. Pitying me like I was some dumb kid or something. I tried to fight him, but he just kept hugging me like he thought I was frail or some shit. It was disgusting.”

He didn’t know how to process this information. He hugged his knees. Yurio continued.

“Yeah, so I went on and decided I was gonna become really strong, so he had no reason to look at me like that ever again. You know what I think you should do? You should do the same by competing again.”

He was upset, but not surprised. “Of course you want me to compete again-”

“Not so I can beat you.” He cut him off. “Okay, that’s part of it, yeah, but that’s not the whole thing! You should compete again to show him he hasn’t won yet. Show him you’re strong. Show him you’ve moved on from this. Don’t let Death control your life.” He offered his hand again to pull him up.

He thought about that. Was that what he wanted? It certainly seemed to be going well enough for Yurio. He let go of his knees and allowed the teenager to help him off the floor. Yurio brushed off some of the dust that had gotten on Yuuri’s pants.

“Okay.” He whispered mostly to himself.

“No, say it like you mean it.” He wasn’t going to drop this. Yuuri took in a deep breath.

He stood up straighter. “I said I’ll do it. I’m going to compete again. I’m strong enough. I’m going to prove myself. For me.”

Yurio beamed up at him.

* * *

“The annual Grand Prix Final is now officially underway. You can hear the excitement ringing in the crowd as the skaters are now making their way out for the six minute warm up.”

“Yes, Ted, but it seems to be quite obvious who the crowd favorite is. It’s not even his home turf, and Yuuri Katsuki age twenty three of Japan seems to have won the hearts of the entire audience today. Katsuki is notorious in the skating world for refusing to take on either a coach or choreographer. Although seeing as he’s made it to the Grand Prix Final several times now, it doesn’t seem to be working out that bad for him.”

“Well, Jess, Katsuki sure is an interesting case to say the least, well known for his inconsistency above all else. He became the first skater to ever land a qualified quad flip a couple years back, but since then has been very lackluster and failed to even qualify for numerous events. This season seems to be different for him though. He’s come in first in every qualifying competition he was in so far, and at the NHK trophy last month, he made history once more by becoming the first skater to land a ratified quad loop. Folks, I think it’s also worth noting here that Katsuki is currently skipping his own graduation ceremony to be here today. Bad scheduling luck for him, but it definitely shows his dedication to the sport.”

“That it does Ted, that it does. Now onto the skater from Switzerland...”

Yuuri blocked out the commentators and brushed water off his skates. The warm up was over, and he was up first. The cold of the ice was calming; it always was.

“Hey, Katsudon.” Yurio was running up to him from the sidelines. No one stopped him, of course they didn’t. He had just won the Junior division his second year running, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t be seen hanging around the rink. Besides, it wasn’t like Yuuri had a coach to tell him off. “I caught the old man hanging around in the crowd. Do you want me to tell him to fuck off?” 

Yuuri smiled, and he heard his name called out. “No, it’s fine. I want him to see this.” He knew he was going to win today. He’d never felt more awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I hate angst. Also me: writes this shit  
> Love comments messages etc as always.
> 
> Anyway over on tumblr [here](http://cgcoconutgun.tumblr.com) if ya want that


	7. Kitsch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri goes to the Olympics. Victor and Yuuri display their time-honored tradition of being incapable of communicating properly except through skating.

Yuuri wouldn’t say he made a mistake. He was Katsuki Yuuri, twenty four year old figure skating prodigy and now, much to Yurio's dismay, two time Grand Prix Final winner. He didn’t _do_ mistakes. Okay, he made mistakes occasionally, but he would never admit out loud that he’d made a mistake. That wasn’t true. He made sure to speak out in interviews all the time about stuff that made him seem more relatable, like messing up. He’d never admit out loud that this _particular_ decision had been a mistake. 

One of the six dogs he’d just adopted was now lapping at his face. He giggled. No, despite his five hundred square foot studio not having room for two people let alone one person and six dogs, he knew this had been a good decision. Two of the dogs were chasing each other around in circles. A lamp fell off an end table and shattered which caused the other four dogs to start yapping at it. He giggled once more. No, despite his apartment complex having a strong one pet limit, this surely wasn’t a mistake.

It wasn’t like he had set out to adopt six dogs that day. He’d just been out for a run, same he went for every morning. It’d been a little chilly so halfway through he had stopped in a small coffee shop to grab a latte. Two shots espresso with soy milk, like always. On his way out he really was going to jog back home, but it was so chilly out; the wind was terrible. He stopped in the alleyway next to the shop just to get out of the wind for two minutes and properly zip up his jacket; the dang thing always got stuck. That’s when he’d heard it. Whining and whimpering. His initial thought had been: _oh no someone got shot back here now everyone's gonna think I did it,_ but that changed when he noticed six pairs of tiny little eyes beaming up at him. _Too cute._ He missed having a pet in the house, and he was a lost cause. Who knew what would happen to them if he didn’t adopt all six then and there.

Well, Yuuri knew. They’d die obviously. Okay, everyone knew that, but he knew what would happen afterward. They would be carried away by Death himself. Except, no. They wouldn’t. One of Victor’s assistants would come and whisk them away. Victor had been adamantly avoiding talking to him so he’d never come and do an assignment so close by. He had tried calling out to him before. There was never a response, but then again he’d never expected one. At first, he had thought his desire to find him again was just to apologize for what he’d asked of him to do, but now he wasn’t so sure. There was always the nagging voice in his head that told him he actually missed him. He wasn’t sure if it was telling the truth, but he thought he wanted it to be so. He had tried stopping one of the assistants and asking them to pass a message along. Most of them ignored him, and those that didn’t simply smiled and went about their job. So he gave up. He had stopped trying to contact Victor years ago. The Junior Worlds was the last time they’d spoken. That didn’t mean they didn’t see each other though. No, Victor was apparently too extra to stay away completely and came to every single one of his performances, but without fail he would disappear before Yuuri could exit the rink. He also, according to Yurio, asked after Yuuri’s health and well-being ‘every fucking time he’s around like god damn it. I talk to him for skating tips and advice not this. I thought I had it bad enough with your constant whining. I don’t need his too.’ None of this bothered him too much though. Victor had said they’d talk again when Yuuri was ready. He thought he might be ready now but apparently not. He had competitions to prepare for and other things to worry about like adorable freezing dogs in alleyways.

 

After making his decision on the dogs, he’d sprinted back past the coffee shop and into a nearby pet store, and well that’s how he ended up here. In retrospect, he probably should have been more careful. Yeah, he was an adult and could do whatever he well pleased, but they could have had rabies, or fleas, or just been mean. The white one, who he was unofficially calling “yapper” since she loved to yap and looked very dapper in the makeshift bandana collar he had given her, was chasing her tail now. Another one he had yet to subconsciously name started peeing on the carpeted floor. Maybe Yuuri had made a tiny mistake.

* * *

**Figure Skating Star Yuuri Katsuki Opens Rescue Shelter Near Home**

A new private no kill shelter has been opened in the Seattle area thanks to local skating prodigy and Olympic hopeful Yuuri Katsuki. Katsuki, who moved his home rink to the Seattle area almost a year ago now, is well known for his outgoing personality and charitable deeds that help to boost the prestige of the area. The shelter was funded by donations from Katsuki himself as well as private donations from members of the community. The still technically unnamed shelter, which residents have fondly nicknamed ‘Katsuki’s Place’ due to its proximity to the skater’s apartment complex is currently home to six dogs and one cat. Katsuki himself was unavailable for comment. The new manager of the shelter, Wendy Cooks age thirty three, also announced that they will be holding an adopt-a-thon on Saturday, January eleventh...continued on page six

* * *

“Outgoing personality and charitable deeds, hmm?” Phichit teased and shoved his phone in Yuuri’s face so he too could read the article. 

_Ah, so someone did take note that that opened. Good._

The two ex-roommates were chowing down at a twenty four hour breakfast diner near Yuuri’s studio. Normally, he would be content to eat breakfast at home so he didn’t have to get up too early, but Phichit had insisted they meet up today. ( _Yuuri you haven’t seen the hamsters since they were basically babies. They’re so fat now! I know, I know. I just can’t resist their cute faces like you can. Besides, you have to rub Gold’s belly so you win at the Olympics next month. Hey, don’t look at me like that. I don’t make the rules._ ) So he had swung by Phichit’s place, visited the hamsters, and afterward they’d went out to eat. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He feigned and ignored the article as he shoved a bite of waffle into his mouth. Phichit rolled his eyes.

But he knew. Oh, how Yuuri knew. Articles about him never could seem to get his personality right. When he’d had a coach they always described him as young, innocent, and naïve. Granted, that’s how he was supposed to come across back then and maybe he had been a bit naïve, but it didn’t make it any more correct. During his first couple years alone, he’d been labeled as stuck up, conceded, and overconfident. He knew all of those were just because of his refusal to accept any coaching offers. But now, media never quite knew how to portray him. Sometimes, like in the shelter article, he was cool and outgoing. Wrong. A couple weeks ago he’d seen one that called him out as loud yet respectful. Wrong again. A third one had said he was humble and kind. Was he? Yuuri wasn’t too sure what he would label himself as anymore. He’d been called selfish once and thought that might fit, but he didn’t care too much. All the confusion gave him the advantage especially with sponsors. Obviously, sponsors only wanted to support skaters that had both of two things. First, they had to win. A lot. He had that down. Second, they had to be well liked. But the thing is, many different people like many different things. So, Yuuri had discovered it was easiest to let people project whatever they wanted onto him because they usually projected whatever fit the scenario and their values best. During interviews, he played along off this, once he could read how they’d pegged him. His sponsor count was rising monthly. Maybe his old skating company had been onto something when they wanted to give off an image; they just hadn’t known how to play the game right. 

“You’re a pretty good actor when you want to be, Yuuri.” Phichit interrupted his thoughts and brought his phone back into his lap. “Outgoing and charitable my ass. You just wanted a personal doggy day care.” 

Yuuri smiled but said nothing. He ate another bite of his waffle. Phichit always had him pegged. 

“So when are you giving me my Olympics front row ticket?” Phichit changed topics. Yuuri bit his tongue.

“I’m not.” He stated and put his fork down, tongue now swollen. He wasn’t hungry anymore. 

Phichit didn’t miss a beat. “Yuuri, shut up. I need to take time off work for this, and yes I’m taking time off to come watch you in the freaking Olympics, don't try to talk me out of it. So again, when are you giving me my ticket.” His friend was scraping the remaining contents of his plate into a box for leftovers.

“I have it here.” He conceded. He took out an envelope from his pocket and slid it across the table.

“Ooh, Yuuri. I feel like we’re doing a drug deal.” Phichit announced to the entire restaurant as he accepted the ticket. Yuuri cringed.

“Can you maybe not do that?” He said after he looked around wide eyed to see if anyone had caught that announcement. He covered his face with his hand just in case anyone had noticed. They hadn’t. Or if they had, they didn’t care. 

Phichit began inspecting the envelope as if waiting for it to explode. Then he laughed. Yuuri removed his hand from his face hesitantly. After a moment he joined in laughing. They laughed together until people actually had begun to stare. Yuuri found he didn’t care. He was glad he’d moved here; he’d missed this.

* * *

Opening ceremonies for the Olympics were the most extravagant, luxurious, and overdone thing Yuuri had ever witnessed. There was confetti falling from the sky, what he hoped were fireworks going off in the distance, and thousands of people from all over the world packed into this one stadium. He swore he saw a couple of performers on stilts? He’d never seen anything like it. Not even a circus could compare. He couldn’t even bring himself to care that he didn’t know anyone else on the Japanese team, and that Yurio was way back with the “R” countries. He strangely didn’t feel anxious from the crowd despite the fact that everyone was jammed in here, and the noise was loud enough he’d swear he would be deaf by tomorrow night. He smiled and waved toward no one in particular and yet at everyone at once. This truly was the most spectacular sporting event he’d been to yet.

The Olympic Village was no different than the stadium, he would say. Technically, yes, it was quieter, but it didn’t feel like that. After he’d checked in and received his room assignment, a solo room surprisingly, he’d walked through a jungle of athletes. There was someone doing pull ups in a door frame, the loud sounds of someone else having sex behind a door, ( _Well at least they were kind enough to close it._ ) and someone on the American team was chugging a bottle of cola while his colleagues cheered him on and took photos. _Is that really such a spectacular feat?_ The Swiss skater he recognized but couldn’t name grabbed his ass and handed him a bottle of something as he walked by. _Phichit would love this,_ Yuuri thought as he finally found his room and closed the door behind him. Maybe he’d tell him about it later when they saw each other. If he told him now, he would probably want photographic evidence, and he didn’t want to go back out there right now. There was only so much excitement he could take in one day. He placed the bottle of what he now realized was champagne on the nightstand. He missed the quiet right now.

 

“Are you fucking serious? You’re sticking with _that_ routine for the goddamn Olympics?” Yurio wasn’t technically supposed to be in his room in the Village at this time of night, but no one really cared. There were probably four separate parties going on on this floor alone right now. No one was going to chastise a fifteen year old for visiting his friend. Okay, no, Yuuri himself was going to chastise him for being in his room at this time of night. He had routines to perform, they both did, and as much as he’d missed him during the opening ceremonies the angry teen yelling at him in his room was not going to benefit either of them for tomorrow.

“Maybe you should knock next time before barging in? When you asked my room number, I thought you just wanted to hang out or have a sleepover or something. Why are you even yelling at me about this anyway? You’ve known my routine for months now.” Yuuri flipped over on his side and covered his head with a pillow.

“I thought you were joking when you said you were still doing that.” Yurio said as he ripped the pillow off of his head. “It’s dumb. This is like a once in a lifetime opportunity. Pick something else.” Yurio was now ‘gently’ hitting him with the pillow. He would call it gently because it wasn’t going to leave bruises, and that was saying something for Yurio. Yuuri groaned and proceeded to pull the covers over his head instead. It wouldn’t protect him from the pillow, but it would at least block out the light. The hits started to crawl to a stop.

“You’re just mad because it’s the same one that made you lose against me in your senior debut.” He called out from under his blanket shield. His shield was pointless. The pillow brigade started up again in full force. Except this time it seemed to have brought reinforcements since it actually hurt now.

“Fuck.” Hit. “Off.” Hit. “Maybe I’m just sick of you doing all your stupid fucking themes off of the same thing yet still getting infinite presentation points with it.” Yurio made one last hit with all his might by throwing the pillow full force at his head. He popped his head out from under his blanket shield and quickly retrieved the pillow so his friend couldn’t decide to do any more damage. 

“My themes change every year. “ Yuuri said. “This season’s is ‘apologies’. Last season was ‘acceptance.’ I'm thinking next fall will be ‘love,’ or maybe ‘life’?” He sat up in bed now, no longer living in fear of attacking pillows.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” He said as he reached for the pillow again. He refused to hand it over and held onto it for dear life. “Those aren't fucking different they're literally all about the old man.”

Yuuri hummed in response as he felt an unexpected blush creep up on his face. He quickly covered it with the pillow before Yurio could notice. He apparently didn’t have to worry too much though. For Yurio had either found something more interesting, or he had realized the conversation was not going to lead anywhere.

“Why do you have an unopened bottle of champagne in here?” He examined the bottle he’d placed on the bedside table.

“That? Oh the Swiss skater gave it to me. He’s nice. A little handsy, but nice.” He found himself blushing again but shook it off instantly this time. He rubbed at the back of his neck with the hand that was not currently guarding the pillow. “He came by earlier tonight and asked me to join the party down the hall. I declined though.” He tossed the pillow aside and sprang out of bed when he saw Yurio trying to open the bottle with his teeth. “No. No you don’t. You’re not even sixteen for another month so none of this for you. Especially before a competition.”

Yuuri snatched the bottle from his hand and went into the bathroom. He shook the bottle until it popped open and proceeded to dump it down the bathroom sink. He felt something soft hit him in the face and fall onto the tiled floor. Oh, the pillow. 

“What the hell?” Yurio glared at the bubbling liquid draining down the sink before turning to also glare at him. “So you’re just gonna waste it like that?”

“It’s my gift.” He retrieved the pillow and walked past Yurio out of the bathroom. “I'll do as I please with it.”

“Ugh whatever.” Yuuri made his way back to his bed and laid down. Yurio followed him out saying nothing. He tried to close his eyes, but the brightness of the ceiling lamp prevented him from doing so.

“Are you going to just stare at me or are you going to leave. We both have things to do tomorrow, so I suggest going to bed.” Yuuri pointed out as he snuggled up into the bed more and readjusted the pillow underneath him.

Yurio opened the door and flicked off the light as if to leave but hesitated with a hand on the door frame. Yuuri didn’t hear the door close, so he rolled over to see what was going on. 

“The old man wanted to tell you good luck tomorrow, or whatever.” Yurio admitted softly to the now dark room they were in. “He also told me not to tell you he said that but you know, like hell I’m going to do what he wants.” Yuuri blinked once, twice. It did nothing to change how well he could see Yurio’s face, which was not at all.

“Tell him thanks, I guess.” Yurio still hadn’t moved from the doorframe as if he didn’t yet consider this conversation over. He thought about what else he could add. His eyes were adjusted to the dark now. “Oh and tell him I know he watches all my routines and to make sure he doesn’t dare take his eyes off of me, especially during the free skate.”

Yurio ‘tsked’ at him, but he did finally take his hand off the door frame. “Tell him yourself, pig. I'm not your messenger.” He made way to leave and slammed the door behind him.

They both knew Yuuri couldn’t actually tell Victor himself. He wouldn’t talk to him directly, but he’d make sure the message came across anyway when he skated.

“Yurio.” He called out hoping Yurio could still hear him and hadn’t yet gone too far.

“What.” Came a muffled voice from the hallway.

“Good luck tomorrow.” He said stifling a yawn.

“Yeah, sure you too.” Was the response he got back. From Yurio, that might have well been a confession of love. He was glad he had stopped by tonight. The two only saw each other in person during competitions, and he’d missed it.

* * *

This was not happening again. This was _not_ happening again. Yuuri had made absolute sure to pack both of his medications in his tote bag this morning. He was sure of it. He’d brought both of them to the short program yesterday, and he knew he’d brought them back to his room as well. He looked around the locker room forcing himself to not freak out. Nothing on the bench. Nothing on the counters. He still had an hour. He could go back to the Village if needed and pick them up. But, oh god, then everyone would see him leaving, and they'd probably assume he was quitting. They’d all assume anxiety driven Katsuki Yuuri had finally broke under the pressure and quit. No, he couldn’t let people think that. He’d just have to find his pill bottles. They’d gone in right after his skates and silver hair pins. He knew they had. Well, he’d had to readjust the skates because they were poking through the top and, oh they must have fallen out. He checked the benches again, nothing. _Breathe. It’s fine. It’s fine._ He could do this. All he had to do was walk back to the Village and look for them. Maybe no one would see him leave. But, oh god, then what if he took too long and he missed his cue and everyone laughed at him and he shamed his entire country and… Both of his pill bottles were on the bench right next to him. 

Yuuri was not blind. He may be on antidepressants and anti-anxiety medications, but he was also not crazy. Both of his medications were sitting right on the same bench he’d just triple checked. In addition, the correct dosage for each had been laid out next to the bottles with a glass of water as well. He looked around. He was alone. He called out. There was no answer, but then again, he hadn’t expected one. He downed the pills and tossed his skates over his shoulder. He could thank his good samaritan on the ice later.

 

He was up fifth today for the free skate, which wasn’t too far in, considering the amount of skaters at the Olympics. He hated going first, but he could deal with fifth. He watched on a screen as the skater up now landed a quad lutz. _Good for him._ He wondered what Phichit was up to now; probably curing a hangover in the roaring stands since he had managed to sneak into one of the parties down the hall last night. He laughed at the image as he rested his chin on his hand. 

“Hey, you’re up next, what the hell are you doing down here?” Ah, Yurio had found his hiding spot. 

“Not much. Just like the quiet atmosphere down here more.” He said. It was the truth. He wasn’t any more nervous than usual right now, but it never hurt to soothe pre-performance nerves by being temporarily alone and out of the spotlight. 

“Well get up there now.” Yurio demanded and grabbed his wrist and started pulling him up the stairs toward the rink. “No way are you missing your start time for the fucking Olympics.” 

_Always such the charmer._ He thought. “Yeah, yeah. I know. It doesn’t count if you beat me unless I’m in top form, right?” He mocked his friend as he marched him upward. However, he dropped his grip when he heard that.

“Fine, then just fucking be late and make a fool of yourself in front of the whole world and your dumbass boyfriend. I’ll win from your default. See if I care.” He kept moving upstairs without him.

 _Boyfriend? Oh._ “Victor’s already up there?” Yuuri began running to catch up with him.

“Of course he is.” Yurio berated him for daring to ask, but he did pause to allow Yuuri to catch up to him. “That idiot would keel over himself before he missed one of your performances.”

He felt his chest swell, from what he wasn’t sure, but it ~~certainly~~ probably wasn't from the information Yurio just told him. Yuuri had known that. He’d always known that. It was never like Victor had tried to hide his presence whenever he skated. Maybe it was just the fact that someone else had acknowledged it. 

He made his way over to the rink entrance and handed Yurio his jacket. He scoffed at him and muttered about how he wasn’t his coach but held onto it for him nevertheless. Once his name was called, he stepped onto the ice. It was calming, as always. He felt the chilled air on his legs and was filled with confidence, as always. The off-white mock corset and half skirt Yuuri had chosen as his costume for this routine was controversial to say the least; he could hear the commentators currently mentioning as much. He’d had to fight with the ISU to even be allowed to wear something so feminine. Originally, he’d wanted to wear a full skirt and no pants, but apparently there were official rules against that. The commentators were now pointing this out as well. He didn’t care. This wasn’t for them. He made sure to scan the crowd for the head of short silver hair before starting. He needed to know where to direct his attention. It sure wouldn’t be toward the judges. This wasn’t for them. He didn’t care what they thought. 

The music started up and he went into a gentle dip. 

“Katsuki’s chosen piece is ‘Think of Me’ from the musical Phantom of the Opera.” A commentator announced.

He hated musicals. They were all either way too weird or far too annoying. His mind wandered back to Yurio of all people. Maybe he was right. Maybe he should have chosen a different routine for the freaking Olympics. He crossed his feet over each other once, twice and pushed back bending down to one knee. Then again, it wasn’t like he would have had time to plan an entire new routine. He’d still had the Grand Prix Series to do, and there’d also been that one weird sponsor who wanted to make bobbleheads of him back in January. Besides, he always thrived on presentation scores which, for him, came from raw emotion. He couldn’t think of a single other thing that would bring out more emotions in him right now than this theme. _He better still be watching me._ Upon standing upward, he crossed his feet over each other once more and pulled one leg up over his head before spinning down to the slow melody of the song. He caught a glimpse of the crowd around him as he spun. He’d never performed for a crowd quite this large before. It didn’t matter though. This wasn’t for them. He was still watching. Of course he was still watching. He tried not to look at the same spot too often. It would bring his scores down and mess up his rhythm. He glanced at the spot one more time just to check. He was still watching. 

He’d saved the majority of his jumps for the second half of his performance. He always did. They were mostly a mix of his signature move, a quad flip, his second favorite, quad loops, and his guilty pleasure, triple salchows. He heard the commentators mentioning how he didn’t have a coach and made all his own programs. They never were going to drop that were they? As if some random choreographer could really capture what he was trying to convey here. He was the only one that could do this. When the time came, he landed all his jumps successfully. No one was surprised. He always did. Toward the last seconds of the song, he spun downward again, this time with more intensity. He could feel the air around him blowing at his hair. He’d let his hair grow past his ears recently. He hoped he had enough pins in to keep it secure. His skates scraped at the ice. He was getting dizzy now, but he held on. He ended the performance standing upright with an arm outstretched pointing to where he knew Victor was watching, where he knew he’d disappear from after the final note finished. 

He got off the ice to wait for his scores. Yurio found him in the kiss and cry and chucked his jacket back at him. He caught the coat and thanked him for holding onto it. Yurio muttered ‘whatever’ back at him and sat down alongside him on the bench. It was strange. Since he had no coach, he usually had no one to wait with him before his scores were announced. That was fine, usually, but it did get awkward after a while staring at his lonesome self on a bigscreen. He wondered if Yurio knew what he was doing for him right now. If he did, he knew he’d never admit it.  
315.01. The score didn’t break his own record, but then again that hadn’t been his goal today. Victor was nowhere to be found, of course. He didn’t know why he’d expected anything different. Victor had said they would meet when Yuuri was ready. That moment was apparently not now. He just hoped he’d gotten his point across well enough.

 

Yuuri stood on the podium gold medal hung around his neck and smiled as widely as he could. It wasn’t a real smile anymore, but no one needed to know that. It had started out real enough, he’d just become a gold medalist at the Olympics for pete’s sake, but now that they’d been up here for what seemed like twenty minutes while flashes blinded them, he was getting worn out, but he had to keep up appearances. Yurio stood to his right with the Swiss skater on his left. He was grumbling and was not bothering to fake a smile for anyone. He’d only lost to him by a couple points. Yuuri would have to make sure he kept his routines in top form if he wanted it to stay that way. The bright flashes of the cameras continued to be disorienting. He swore he heard Phichit’s voice screaming something in excitement at him from the audience, but it was mostly drowned out, gibberish, incoherent sentences. The gold medal gleamed in the lights and someone called out for him to hold it up. He did so. It weighed more than he thought it should have. The cameras flashed once more. He had thought he’d have been used to this sort of thing by now.

 

Back in his room, he practically threw himself onto his bed in exhaustion. Who’d have known so many people would want to interview a gold medalist. Then there’d been a banquet, and Phichit dragged both him and ‘his adopted cousin’ Yurio sightseeing. It had been exhausting. Nice, but exhausting. There were only so many people he could talk to in a day before needing to recharge. 

He was so worn out that he almost went straight to sleep before noticing the bushel of blue roses sitting on his bedstand. He smiled. He smiled a real genuine unexhausted smile. His message _had_ gotten through. He brushed his medal off the nightstand and onto the floor. The vase deserved its own spot. He’d figure out a space for the medal in the morning. He would also have to find out the policy on bringing flowers onto planes. If they weren’t allowed, then he would be bumping his flight and staying here until every last one had wilted away.

* * *

**Living Legend Yuuri Katsuki Discusses Current Season Theme and Last Year’s Olympic Win**

Well known for his extroverted personality and inhuman stamina, skating legend Yuuri Katsuki, aged twenty five, recently sat down for an interview here at WXYZ. Katsuki who is the reigning Grand Prix and World champion, certainly is far more accomplished than most people his age. When asked his opinion on that, Katsuki appeared caught off guard before he burst out laughing. “I don’t know how true that is. I just chose a different path than most, that’s all. They’re just Grand Prix Finals [and World Championships], it’s not that big a deal. Besides, I’d keep an eye on Yurio [sic; Yuri Plisetsky] in the years to come. I’m sure he’ll become more renowned than me given some time.” Regardless of Katsuki’s opinion on his achievements, even he can’t argue how well decorated he’s become as of late. This is especially astounding considering Katsuki has been coping with mental health issues for years now, something he has always been very vocal about. Despite it all, he has become the first skater in history to have won both the Grand Prix Series and the World Championship three years in a row. A few years ago, this would have come as a shock to many given the uneventful, inconsistent start to his career, but by now it’s doubtful anyone was surprised at his recent Olympics win. Given his theme and chosen music for his routines during the Olympics, we decided to ask Katsuki how he came up with his performance ideas and whether or not he had decided to go back and pay homage to how he started professionally skating when his songs were more slow paced. “Uhm yeah. Sure. I mean. Of course. That’s what I was going for. Paying homage.” Katsuki commented.  
Switching topics, we brought up his theme for this now closing season: Death. Katsuki, whose previous themes have ranged from apologies to acceptance to life, has never been one to do a topic so dark. However, granted how Katsuki is no stranger to loss, he did do the theme justice by winning both the Grand Prix series and the World Championship with it. “I don’t think my theme was that strange. I just wanted to do something...new,” Katsuki stated. Given that his season is coming to a close, we asked Katsuki if he had any thoughts on a theme for next season. However, Katsuki seemed to be tight lipped on that as… continued on page three

* * *

“Are you fucking kidding me? These interviewers are stupid as hell. They don’t understand where you pick routines from? You’re not even being subtle with dedicating your shit to him anymore. Death. Literally ‘Death’ as your theme. Stupidest fucking theme ever, by the way.” Yurio’s voice rang from his laptop speakers drowning out the gentle sound of rain drizzling outside.

“Stop stalking me online.” Yuuri said as he watched droplets fall down the window from his bed. He should probably go to sleep soon, but Yurio had called him, and it wasn’t like he had anything better to do right now than tease his friend. “That article’s months old now. Besides, you don’t have permission to insult my themes yet. You can’t do that until after you’ve beaten me.”

“It was .12 of a point!” Yurio’s voice rang out once more. He turned the volume down on his laptop speakers. The neighbors didn’t deserve to be woken up for this. “It shouldn’t have even counted this last time.”

“Hmm, yeah say that when you’ve won a championship.” He set his laptop on the floor. It didn’t matter. It was too dark in his studio right now for Yurio to see him anyway.

“Whatever.” A pause. He waited. “So are you still stopping by here before you fuck off to Japan or whatever?” _Ah, there it was; the real reason Yurio had called._

“Yeah.” He wouldn’t let him know he had heard the sigh of relief come from his speakers. “Of course I am. You promised to take me sightseeing, remember? But I’m not ‘fucking off’ to Japan. The final this year’s in Tokyo, so I’m visiting my family first. It’s only a couple hours away by train.”

“I thought your family was all dead now.” _Wow. Yurio always said the nicest things._ Although, granted it wasn’t as if Yuuri didn’t act in a way to give off any other impression. He hadn’t visited Hasetsu much at all since he’d left to jumpstart his career.

“My sister’s still there.” Mari hated him though. He didn’t say that out loud. Yurio hadn’t called to hear him complain about that. “She runs the inn now. I have friends there as well. Minako's there too. And Yuuko, even though we haven’t spoken in years...”

“Shut up.” Yurio cut him off. “You don’t have any friends.” 

Silence. The rain outside was more audible now. He found himself laughing. “Then what does that make us?”

“Shut up.” It was quieter the second time. “You don’t have that many friends is what I meant.”

* * *

Hasetsu was warmer than Yuuri remembered, and quieter too. There weren’t many cars. Pedestrians were rare as well. When he stepped off the train station escalators he was surprised to see a well kept poster of him hung around the exits. It wasn’t the only one either. Everywhere he turned, there was the same poster of him from a photo shoot he’d done years ago. There were even ones near the outdoor exit that had been subject to the elements day after day. All of them were in prime condition, not a speck of dirt or dust to be found. He’d always thought the town would believe he’d abandoned them after leaving for so long and never visiting save for a funeral once, and even then he hadn’t stayed long enough to talk to anyone. 

“Is that really what you thought?” Mari asked exhaling smoke from a cigarette and blowing it away from them. He jumped and refused to make eye contact. Yes, he’d told his sister he would be coming and the time he’d arrive as well, but he hadn’t expected she would actually show to pick him up from the train station. It wasn’t too far from the family inn; he could have just walked there alone. She hated him. She didn’t have to pick him up. He also hadn’t realized he’d been voicing his thoughts out loud. She went on after he didn’t answer her question. “Yuuri, everyone in town loves you. You’re the local celebrity. Hell, you’re a world renowned celebrity.” Another puff of smoke. “I mean that, by the way. _Everyone_ here loves you.”

He looked up at her. “We just wished you’d visit more. Take some time out for the smaller people, ya know?” Another puff blew past them. He felt himself relax. Mari didn’t hate him. This entire time, she hadn’t hated him. He found himself pulled into a hug before he could completely process what was happening, and then he cried. He’d cried often so this wasn’t a foreign concept, but this _was_ a new feeling. Mari joined in, and they cried together. They cried for their parents. They cried over lost time. They cried over each other. Yuuri had never felt more at home.

 

“So how are you and your boyfriend doing?” Minako asked later that week. They were gathered around a table at the family inn. Mari had brought out tea and a couple steamed buns. Most of the guests were sleeping. Yuuri dropped his plate onto the floor at Minako’s comment. She had passed up the tea in favor of wine, maybe that’s why she was being so bold right now. 

“Huh? Since when are you dating someone, Yuuri?" Mari chimed in.

He hadn’t known he was dating someone either. _Stop lying._ Okay, so he knew he had a _something_ going on, but was it dating? He wasn’t sure how one referred to a person who they never communicated verbally with for years on end and at one point had killed his parents and dog but he was over that now, right? Oh, and there was the thing with the roses and the fact that he’d never kissed anyone in his life other than supposedly Phichit and… It was complicated. He had said they could sort it out when Yuuri was ready. He thought he was ready now, but apparently not. He debated telling Minako as much. He never had told her that Victor had stopped talking to him, or what had made him do so in the first place. Maybe he would have said something if she were sober or if Mari weren’t in the room, but she was not sober, and Mari was here. So he said nothing. 

“We’re fine.” He answered instead.

Minako snorted out liquid through her nose which distracted Mari since it got onto the carpet. They both forgot about the subject in the scramble to either clean up the mess or stop their nose from stinging. The two began fighting over a pile of napkins. Yuuri wondered if this was daily life around the inn now. He should have visited Hasetsu more often.

* * *

Ice castle Hasetsu was just as Yuuri had remembered. There were customers, but it wasn’t packed. It never was. It was cold, which was calming. It always was. He rang the bell on the counter and waited to see if anyone came around. He wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted anyone to. A man he’d never met before walked in from around the corner.

“Hi, here to rent a pair of skates? That’ll be…” The man stopped. “Oh, Yuuri.” He had never met him, but apparently his sister had not been lying about his celebrity status. “You’re pry here to see Yuuko, right? I’ll go get her. She’s on the rink with the triplets.” He left before Yuuri could protest. He stood there alone once more. The setting sun shone onto the floor around him creating a shadow. He felt awkward.

 _Oh, that must have been Yuuko’s husband._ Yuuri remembered a brief text a while back where she’d mentioned she’d gotten married. He hadn’t been invited to the wedding. She’d never given his name. They’d stopped texting after that.

Less than two minutes later, Yuuko was hesitantly making her way over. She was taller now, but then again so was he.

“Yuuri?” She was keeping her distance. The counter still separated them.

“Hi.” What else was he supposed to say? They both avoided looking at each other for more than a sparse moment. Someone’s phone buzzed in the distance.

“Yuuri, I’m so sorry!” She blurted out. Yuuri was taken aback. What did she have to be sorry for? “I know you probably hate me. I’m so, so, so sorry. I never should have made you sign on with that stupid skating company. It was all my fault. Everything was my fault.” She was shaking. The counter still separated them.

“What?” How was he supposed to answer to that?

“The first company you ever had.” Yuuko explained. “If I’d just kept my mouth shut you never would have had to go through all that. Every time I watched you skate on TV I could tell how upset you were. I wanted to apologize, I did, but I knew you’d hate me so I never tried. Yuuri, please say you’ll forgive me.” The counter still separated them, but he knew what he was supposed to say to this now.

“You had no idea.” It was the truth. “It wasn’t your fault. If it weren’t me, it probably would have been you instead. I never hated you, Yuuko. I always assumed _you_ hated me since I never even called or anything.” He reached out across the counter that still separated them. Yuuko did the same. He reached out to hug her, ready to pull back at any sign of hesitation. There was none. She hugged him back.

“Although,” he spoke up once more. “It wasn’t all bad, you know. I got to travel a lot. Besides, I’d been inspired to get into skating even before what happened. I feel like I would have started skating eventually one day or another.” Yuuri remembered the most beautiful skater he’d ever seen. The one that didn’t even wear skates. “You’d just ended up giving me that final push.”

* * *

“December again folks, which means here we are at another Grand Prix Final. Warm ups have just wrapped up on day two of our senior men’s event and crowd favorite Yuuri Katsuki of Japan does not seem to show any sign of handing over his title this year, especially on his home turf. Many had thought this might finally be the year seventeen year old Yuri Plisetsky of Russia stole the crown, but after yesterday’s short program Plisetsky is still in second by a non-negligible margin. It looks like Katsuki very well may take home his fourth consecutive gold medal here today.”

“Well, Jess, I wouldn’t disregard Plisetsky quite so soon. There’s still a chance he could win today especially if he continues to raise his arm during jumps, which he is known for doing, to considerably boost his scores.”

“That did seem to be his strategy yesterday, Ted, but that also takes away presentation points which Katsuki is well known for excelling in. Especially with a theme like ‘love.’”

Yuuri didn’t need to listen to this. The commentators were always so dull. Who cared that much if Yurio finally beat him, especially at the Grand Prix Final; it wasn’t like it was the Olympics or anything. Yurio had worked hard for this, he deserved to beat him someday. Yuuri looked at the scoreboard with his name atop. Okay, so perhaps Yurio wouldn’t be beating him today, but he would someday. He just knew it. He continued to hang backstage as the first few skaters did their routines. Since he came in first yesterday, he would have to go last today. That was fine. He had always hated going first.

“Hey, Katsudon!” Speak of the devil. “I’m up next, so you better stop fucking hiding down here and pay attention. No way am I letting you get a fourth medal this year, and I want you to be there to watch when I steal your crown!” Yurio called down to him. Yuuri got up and moved away from the screens backstage.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming up.” He made way to go upstairs, but apparently it wasn’t fast enough. Halfway up the short flight of stairs, a hand clutched his wrist and began pulling him forward with urgency. “You don’t have to drag me. You know I always watch you.” It did nothing to loosen Yurio’s grip on his wrist. He was sure he’d have bruises by tomorrow.

 

  


Yurio was amazing. He always was, but he was particularly so today. He was adept at utilizing the remnants of youthful flexibility he still clung onto, and mixing it with the strength and height that had yet to fully set in. Yuuri couldn’t look away. At the end of it all, he’d set a new personal best for his free skate. It was still a decent five points behind Yuuri’s world record, but it was a good score. Yurio didn’t appear to agree however as he was now pouting. Yuuri walked the opposite direction of his friend toward the rink entrance. He would talk to him later. He didn’t look to be in the mood right now.

He placed his jacket over a nearby chair and waited. After a moment, his name was called, and he stepped out onto the ice. Cheers rang about, but he blocked them out for the most part. The cold was calming. It always was. 

He quickly scanned the crowd to find who he was looking for. He found the head of short silver hair standing next to the judge’s table. He was already holding a bouquet of blue roses. _Of course._ He waved once, but that got no response from its intended recipient. However, one of the judges did wave back laughing. No, that wouldn’t do. He skated to the middle of the rink before turning toward the judge’s table once more. He blew a kiss. _There we go._ That got the response he desired. Victor was now scrambling to pick up the bouquet he’d dropped, cheeks burning red. Who’d have known Death could blush. He swore he heard Yurio ‘tsk’ at him from over on the sidelines, but he ignored it.

“Next up we have Yuuri Katsuki age twenty six of Japan. He has a total of five quads planned in his program today. Not anything we haven’t seen him accomplish many times before, Katsuki is an ambitious skater who doesn’t doubt his decisions, but that still puts his base technical score higher than anyone else here today.”

The song began, and so did he. He spun around gracefully in beat with the music. The piano played its notes letting him know when to do his first few jumps, not that he needed it to though. He knew this routine by heart. The second half of his routine went virtually the same. He mentally apologized to Yurio. He certainly wouldn’t be beating him today.

That is, he certainly wouldn’t have been beating him today. If Yuuri hadn’t flubbed his final jump. It was a quad flip, his signature move. He’d never missed this. He had heard the commentators saying as much before he took off. Maybe it had been a rough patch of ice. Maybe his skate had snapped. Maybe he just wasn’t a good skater anymore. He didn’t know. All he knew was that he was falling, and he was far too close to the wall.

Despite what he’d seen in movies, Yuuri did not fall in slow motion. His life did not appear to flash before his eyes. The moment he took off to the moment he hit the wall happened in less than four seconds. In fact, on the way down Yuuri only had time for one thought to cross his mind. _Oh, Victor. I guess this means I’m ready now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow so this things almost finished. The last two chapters will most certainly be much shorter than this one was. 
> 
> Anyways as always I love comments messages etc
> 
> [tumblr](http://cgcoconutgun.tumblr.com) If ya want that


	8. Der Schleier Fällt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri meets Victor again. It goes well.

Victor had been around for quite a long time. The exact length he wasn’t too sure on, but he knew it had been a long time. He’d killed and killed and stolen from everyone in some form at one point or another. Maybe that was why the universe was punishing him now. No one had ever stolen anything from him, so yes, this seemed to fit as just payback. The universe was mocking him. Despite this, he couldn’t bring himself to be upset. Here Yuuri was, unconscious in a hospital almost a full three months after his fall, yet he was alive. He was still alive. That was okay. No it was great. He didn’t _want_ Yuuri to die. Not now. He deserved a full life first. Sure, he’d thought constantly about how wonderful it would be if they could go on dates and hold each other and doze off together and dance and watch movies and be together forever and kiss, but not so soon. Never so soon. He’d said he would wait until Yuuri was ready. That couldn’t possibly be now. It was too soon, far too soon.

Yes, the universe surely was mocking him. Yuuri laid eyes shut and unconscious looking so peaceful, so beautiful. To a passerby, he surely looked dead. He knew better. He was warm and radiating. That was something Death could never hope to be. No, the universe was too cruel. It was making a point to show him that on top of not being able to be together how he truly wanted, he also was not allowed to enjoy watching Yuuri live. Instead he got this mockery of a life. This was all his fault. Yuuri deserved so much better. He should have talked to him before this happened while he’d had the chance instead of just watching from the sidelines all the time.

After he had fallen, Victor had rushed to his side already prepared to relieve him of any pain as soon as inhumanly possible, but he couldn’t. Yuuri’s heart still beat. It wasn’t yet his time. He’d snuck inside the ambulance and rode to the hospital with him wanting to be there the second it happened, but Yuuri’s heart still beat. He’d ignored and shrunk off his duties and assignments for the last few months waiting by Yuuri’s bedside hand in hand, but still his heart beat. He could tell his assistants were getting irritated, but none of them had yet dared to mention anything about it. He had checked and rechecked and triple checked the list, but Yuuri’s name was not on it, not yet anyway. It was there, everyone’s was, but it was quite a ways down. His natural time wasn’t for a long while. He hadn’t done an exact count.

He’d cried at first. The universe was mocking him, and he could do nothing about it, but he was out of tears now. He was just exhausted. Yuuri had had other visitors as well. His sister was the first. She didn’t say anything out loud, but then again she didn’t need to. It wasn’t like Yuuri could respond or likely even hear them. She hadn’t noticed Victor. She couldn’t. Then she was gone. Yurio had popped by once towards the start of all this. He _could_ have noticed him if he wanted to. He chose not to and took no interest in him instead. Then he was gone. Next came Yuuri’s old roommate, Phichit he remembered, who held a one sided conversation to let Yuuri know both Instagram and Twitter were blowing up, trending ‘just for him’ ( _You even have your own hashtag, Yuuri!_ ). He’d told him he would have shown him the proof, but he’d forgotten his phone back at the hotel. He hadn’t noticed Victor. He couldn’t. Then he was gone. Some family with triplets stopped by too. He didn’t know who they were, and he didn’t care. None of them noticed him. They couldn’t. Then they were gone. The ballet teacher Minako had come by as well. She’d noticed him but didn’t say too much. She’d held Yuuri’s other hand for a while, the one that Victor hadn’t grasped in his own near constantly since this began, in silence. Only on the way out did she acknowledge his presence. “Take care of him, will you?” She hadn’t given him a chance to respond before she too was gone.

He didn’t know what she’d meant by that. He would give anything for Yuuri to just be happy again, but whatever that was, it certainly wasn’t Death killing him prematurely. Especially now. He just wanted to be alone with him. In addition to friends and family, doctors, nurses, and other various staff had been popping in and out. None of them ever seemed to do anything helpful though. Most of them just wanted to ogle the celebrity ‘guest’ they had. It had died down over the past couple weeks, especially after Yuuri had been switched to a different room, but it still pissed him off. He deserved privacy out of the spotlight, even like this. Today, Victor had felt too exhausted to deal with potential curious bypassers. He had decided to use his abilities to temporarily lock several of the doors around the area and direct people’s attention elsewhere. It wouldn’t last forever, of course. That would be detrimental to Yuuri’s health. No, it would just make the staff forget he was here for a couple hours or so. No one would be bothering them anytime soon. He’d hoped the fact that Yuuri wasn’t on his ‘upcoming’ list had meant that he’d live a full and happy life. He still wished that, of course. It seemed less likely every day. He wished he’d spoken to him more the past couple years. God, he’d been so stupid. He should have spoken to him. 

“Ugh, you’re still in here? I should have figured.” A moody Yurio in a faded tiger hoodie plopped himself down on the chair across from his. “Don’t you have things to do? People to kill, instead of moping around here. You’re making the scene more gloomy than it already is.”

He should have known a few hours alone would be too much to ask for. He squeezed at Yuuri’s still hand. He’d taken his gloves off a while ago and shoved them in his blue coat pocket. He could feel his pulse. “No.” He answered. He didn’t want to be anywhere except here. Nothing else was worth his time. “How’d you find his new room? I thought he was still listed under a fake name to keep the press away.” _I also thought I warded off anyone from coming in here today._ He thought irritably but did not say. Yurio had always been an exception to many of his abilities. He’d always been able to see him. Maybe his other abilities didn’t work well on him either. He had never tested it out. 

“It wasn’t that hard. I just asked Phichit for the new room number, and then I walked in here. I don’t even think anyone noticed me. He still thinks we’re cousins too, so he just gave the room to me no questions asked. Guess it’s a good thing I’m not famous enough yet, or that he’s too trusting. Anyone that paid the slightest bit of attention to the skating world would know the two Yuris aren’t fucking related.”

The monitor on the wall beeped displaying Yuuri’s heart rate as it did so. He brushed a fallen strand of dark hair out of Yuuri’s face. It wasn’t fair. He was so beautiful even like this. Yurio watched them closely. He wished he’d go away already, but he didn’t voice as much. He knew the two had been, were, they still were friends. Yuuri would want him here.

“Congrats on your first Grand Prix Final win.” He offered something up as a form of conversation. He kept his focus on Yuuri though even as Yurio sprung upright in his chair. 

“Don’t congratulate me for that!” Yurio sneered at him. Victor avoided looking up. He hadn’t meant to set him off. He still didn’t even want to talk to him right now in the first place. “I didn’t really win anything. I don’t care if they gave me the stupid gold medal. A default win isn’t a win.” 

He offered no comment. He didn’t want to talk about skating anyway. He’d just been trying to start a friendly conversation. Yuuri’s pulse was steady. He squeezed their hands together once more. With his other hand, he traced a finger along the bottom of Yuuri’s jawline.

“So,” Yurio began. “When are you offing him?”

Victor sighed and dropped his hand away from Yuuri’s face. His other remained linked though as he felt for Yuuri’s steady pulse. Still there. He could tell Yurio was waiting for an answer now. It hadn’t been a rhetorical question then. Why did everyone assume he was here to ‘off’ Yuuri. He wouldn’t dream of such a thing.

“I’m not.” It came out harsher than he’d intended it to. He searched for Yuuri’s pulse again to calm himself. It was still there. “He’s supposed to be taken off the ventilator within the next couple days. I heard them say they think he’ll make it this time.” They had already tried to take Yuuri off support once. It hadn’t fared too well. He wasn’t looking forward to watching their next attempt, but they had seemed more confident this time around. He would trust them. He had to. He just wanted Yuuri to be happy again.

“Yeah, so? What’s the hold up then? Might as well do it now before they try again, makes it easier.” Yurio was leaning on the bed frame now. This was as close as he’d ever willingly sat near him. Victor hated it.

“That’s not funny, Yurio. I’m not doing anything to hurt him. End of discussion.” He rubbed at the back of Yuuri’s palm pressing far harder than was necessary. His heartbeat remained steady.

“Well you’re sure not doing anything to help him either.” Yurio added. “You know, just because they say he’ll make it doesn’t mean he’s going to be alright.”

Yuuri’s pulse remained steady.

“He’s not on my list until years from now.” He was finding it harder to remain calm. He had to stop himself from gripping onto Yuuri’s hand with too much force. Yurio just wasn’t going to drop this was he. He really wished he would leave. “He’s not dying anytime soon.”

“I don’t give a shit about your list.” Yurio glared at his own feet and kicked at the side of the bed. It wobbled, and Victor used his free hand to steady it. How dare he disturb Yuuri like this. “That’s not what I fucking meant, and you know it. Does your list tell you everything? Is he going to be alright, alright. As in, is he going to actually _live_ after this?” 

He didn’t know what Yurio wanted to hear so he said nothing. Of course the list didn’t tell him people’s quality of life, and he didn’t care. It wouldn’t tell him how to make Yuuri happy again, and that’s all that mattered. 

“You know these things don’t last forever like this and people just miraculously come out okay, right? It’s been months, old man. He’s most likely never going to wake up again, and if he does, what’s he gonna be like? He’s not even going to be aware of anything.” He looked up from his feet. “I’ve heard what they’ve been saying about him. What kind of life will that be.”

Why couldn’t he just leave? He didn’t want him here. He shouldn’t be here. He was ruining everything. All he wanted was to make Yuuri happy again. He needed to make him happy again. God, it’s all that mattered anymore. He unlinked his hand from Yuuri’s for the first time in days. He couldn’t risk squeezing it too hard and hurting him. He just wanted him to be happy again. Yurio was staring at him, judging him. He had no right to do that. It broke him.

“I know all of that, okay? I’ve been around forever. I’ve seen it all. So yes, I know all of that, and it’s tearing at me, Yurio. It’s tearing at me. I can’t do anything. What do you want me to do? He could be like this forever, probably will be like this forever even after he can move again, and all I can do is sit here and watch him. It’s tearing at me bit by bit every single day, and yet all I can do is sit here and watch him. So I’ll ask again. What do you want me to do about this, Yurio?”

Yurio narrowed his gaze. He was judging him. Victor resisted the urge to physically force him to stop. He had no right to judge him. No right.

“I told you what to do already. Katsudon would hate being trapped like this. Hasn’t he ever told you that? Just make out with him like the disgusting lovebirds you two are, and then he can fucking leave here.”

 _Oh._ He felt drained. Why was this all anyone thought he was good for. Maybe it _was_ all he was good for, but he wasn’t going to do it. He may be Death, but he’d never _never_ killed anyone before their time, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start here. He almost voiced as much to Yurio, but instead all he could get out was:

“I can’t.” That was apparently not a good enough response. 

“Like fucking hell you can’t!” Yurio had jumped up from his chair and was now pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Look up a tutorial online or something and then do it!”

“Yurio, I literally can’t.” This was also, apparently, not a good enough response.

Yurio leaned across the bed now and jabbed Victor in the chest. It was surprisingly strong for a teenager. He allowed it.

“What, do you have herpes or some shit? You’re killing him, so it doesn’t fucking matter.” He jabbed at his chest once more. Victor felt nothing. He ignored it and returned his focus to Yuuri. Peaceful, beautiful Yuuri.

“It’s not his time.” He let out. Yurio didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand.

“Then make it his fucking time. It’s not that hard. You’re Death.” _Ah, there it was._

“No. Yurio. I can’t. I can’t do that. It’s not his natural time. If I kill him before then, I’ll destroy his soul too. I won’t do that. I can’t do that. He’s better off laying here for the rest of eternity than me doing that to him, so stop asking.”

Yurio finally fell silent and reluctantly sat back down, arms crossed. Victor reveled in it and took Yuuri’s hand back into his. His pulse was steady. He looked so beautiful. They remained like that as a clock audibly ticked on the wall. Yuuri’s monitor beeped steadily.

“What if he goes unnaturally.” He had momentarily forgotten Yurio was still here. He wished he would leave.

“What are you talking about.” He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. Yurio had never annoyed him so much in his entire existence. It was usually the other way around.

“I said, what if he goes unnaturally. Does that still count? Would your stupid list show that too?” The bed frame shook as Yurio reached over it to tuck the blanket up around Yuuri. 

“Like in an accident or something?” He didn’t want to talk about the stupid fucking list, and he hated accidents. “It doesn’t show that stuff too far into the future, but once the event is happening it’ll pop up, and it would be his time. Why? It’s not like he’s driving anywhere anytime soon.”

Yurio moved his chair closer to the wall. Victor felt Yuuri’s heartbeat. It remained steady.

“Yeah, he’s not.”

That was, unexpected. Yurio agreeing with him was no small feat, but he guessed he would take it. He looked up to see him leaning up as far against the wall as the chair would allow him. He was staring at Yuuri. No, not at him, just staring with purpose in his general direction. He didn’t try to stop him; the silence was nice. Maybe Yurio could stay if he were just like this. He could tolerate quiet company. Yurio adjusted himself in his seat and stretched his legs out. Something small could be heard falling against the tiled floor, a pen or something. The room became quieter almost instantly. Yurio didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t care. Yuuri’s heart rate remained steady. It’s all he focused on. He rubbed circles on his hand once more. To his surprise, he noticed Yurio take the opposite hand and do the same. He didn’t complain. He could do what he pleased as long as he’d stopped talking. He didn’t want to talk right now. The clock on the wall ticked onward. Yuuri’s heart rate was changing, but it was nothing too significant. The clock ticked on. Victor didn’t keep track of how much time had passed, although he probably should. In a couple hours, people would be able to remember Yuuri was here, and some would come to ogle him again. He was curious as to why Yurio was still in here. He’d never willingly remained in a room with him for quite so long before. He knew he didn’t care for him too much.

Yuri’s heart rate was faster now. Faster than was ignorable. Victor looked up at the monitor. It was blank. Yurio was still sitting across from him near the wall. He was still holding onto Yuuri’s other hand apparently oblivious to anything else in the room. He could feel Yuuri’s heart racing now. It made him sick. 

Out of forceful habit, the list popped up in his head. He hadn’t meant to look. Yuuri’s name was now towards the very top. He shot his attention towards Yurio, still sitting across from him. His eyes were red and puffy. _When had he been crying?_ No, he wasn’t oblivious to the events in the room, and he wasn’t being quiet out of respect for Victor’s wishes. He was purposely ignoring him. 

“What did you do?” He choked out, voice far too heavy in his throat. Yurio continued to ignore him and held onto Yuuri.

Victor dropped Yuuri’s other hand once more and made his way to the other side of the bed. Yurio didn’t even glance up at him. He was rather intent on focusing his gaze on that one particular spot in the distance and keeping his grip on Yuuri’s hand. Victor hated hurting children, which Yurio technically still was for a few more days, but he refused to be ignored like this. Not now. Not when Yuuri could be hurt. He grabbed Yurio’s face to force him to look at him. His hand was shaking. That’s when he spotted it. Two plugs just plopped onto the tile floor. How long had they been out now, an hour, two hours? How had he not noticed the ventilator had been off. He was so stupid.

“No. Yurio. No. What did you do?” He smacked Victor’s hand off of his face but gave no answer and still refused to make eye contact. His eyes were still puffed and red, but it was dying down. “He wasn’t ready to go off that yet. Put it back, maybe there’s still time. There has to still be time. Put it back.” 

Yuuri’s name was slowly creeping up to the top spot on the list. Victor had to stop it. Yurio hadn’t moved from his spot and thus still physically blocked the wall. He could probably move him. No, he definitely could move him by force. At least he could if he could breathe. He didn’t need to breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe? _Yuuri._

“Why would you do this?” Victor was desperate. Why would Yurio do this. The two had been friends. They had been friends. “He was going to make it. You two were supposed to compete together again someday. You were friends.” Victor sunk to the side of the bed. It didn’t make sense. They had been friends. Yuuri’s named edged toward the top of the list. His time was soon.

“Victor.” He felt a hand on his shoulder. His initial reaction was to push it away, but he was too weak. _Yuuri._ He was so weak. He hadn’t even noticed it was Yurio talking. The voice was too calm and too soft to come from the teen. “I don’t care about competing against him. Why the hell would that even matter at all at this point. Even if he’d had a chance, why would that matter. I just want him to be happy.” 

Then he hugged him. _Hugged him._ Victor allowed it. He didn’t know what to make of it, but he allowed it. Yuuri had stood a chance, and Yurio had stolen that. Yuuri had stood a chance; he’d stood a chance. He’d stood, nothing. Yurio was right. The universe had been mocking him. What Yuuri had stood a chance of wasn’t death, but it hadn’t been a life either. He found himself hugging back now. Neither of them cried now. There was no time for that.

“Yuri, you should go soon.” He stated. He didn’t want him to go. He wanted someone else here for this. He wanted his friend here for this. “People are going to start remembering he’s in here soon, and I don’t want them to see you in here too.”

They held eye contact for a second, before Yurio nodded and stood to leave. When he released him, he found he missed the contact. Yurio hesitated once he was up. “You make him happy, you know. When you’re not being a dick and avoiding him, that is. Real genuine-smile happy. Please take care of him.”

Victor wanted to assure him that he would. He would do everything in his power, and then some, to make Yuuri happy, but he didn’t give him a chance to answer. Yurio had already left; the door was slowly shutting behind him and finished with an audible ‘click’. 

It was dark outside. He checked the list. Yuuri’s name was at the top now. He took both of his hands in his own and kissed them first. “I’m sorry.” He found himself speaking out loud. He didn’t know why. He knew Yuuri couldn’t hear him. His hands were still shaking. He took in a deep breath and let it out. He hadn’t physically needed to, but he needed to. Slowly, ever so slowly, he bent down and brushed his lips against Yuuri’s. It was chaste and light; their lips barely breezed each other, but it was enough. He felt his pulse stop at once. Victor’s hands were still shaking, but the intensity had died down. The kiss was over in less than a half second. It had been far worse than anything he could have imagined.

* * *

**Figure Skating Legend Yuuri Katsuki Dies At Age Twenty Six**

The skating and sporting world at a whole are in mourning after figure skating prodigy Yuuri Katsuki died last night at the young age of twenty six. Katsuki passed away due to complications from his fall at the last Grand Prix Final back in early December. At said competition, Katsuki fell on one of his jumps due to an equipment error. He had since been in critical condition at a nearby hospital. Katsuki is reported to have succumbed to his injuries around eleven o’clock last night. Katsuki was famous in the sporting world for his groundbreaking routines and setting numerous world records in figure skating. These include but are not limited to: having the highest overall score in men’s history, the highest free skate score in men’s skating history, and being the first skater to land both a ratified quad flip and quad loop. Katsuki was also well known outside the sporting world for his numerous acts of charitable deeds, his vocality on mental illness awareness and support, and various household brands that came to be through his sponsorships. The fact that such a clearly skilled skater could be injured in such a way has been brought to attention, and the ISU has been working to assure that its athlete’s safety as its top priority. Gregory Jacobs aged forty six...continued on page seven.

* * *

Yuuri was confused. He wasn’t quite sure of where he was. It wasn’t dark, but it wasn’t light out either. There seemed to be nothing around. Literally nothing. There was just a black floor that seemed to go on forever. He was dead. He knew that much. He’d never seen the outfit he had on before in his life. It was a blue jacket with a silver sash on the shoulder. It sparkled and was unnecessarily intricate and complicated. It was pretty enough, he guessed, but why was he alone? He needed to keep walking. He knew exactly who was extravagant enough to have dreamt this outfit up just for him. He had to find him. He was ready now.

Only a few steps later, he found what he was looking for, which was apparently an ice rink. Floodlights surrounded it, highlighting how it was the only thing around illuminated and clear. He hadn’t known that’s what he had been searching for, but it made sense. There was a lone skater on the rink eyes currently closed in thought as he moved about. His short silver hair bounced up and down in time with his movements. He had on the same overly intricate outfit as Yuuri save for it was pink. He looked beautiful. He always was. He always had been.

“Victor!” He called out as he reached the entrance of the rink.

Victor stopped and turned towards the sound of his voice.

“Yuuri!” His smile formed a heart. Yuuri’s heart swelled.

He stepped onto the ice and skated over to Victor. Neither of them were wearing any skates, but then again they didn’t need any.

“Can I join you?” He teased. He knew the answer would be yes. This was all for him. The rink, the outfits, the skating, he knew Victor had set it up for him.

Victor placed a bare, gloveless finger to his lip as if pondering the answer to a question. “Hmm, do you have a reservation?” 

“Wh..what?” Yuuri started. _Oh, he’s teasing me back._ “Yes, I think you’ll find that I do indeed.”

Victor smiled once more at him and offered out his hand. “Skate with me then? I promise not to drop you this time.” He winked. 

He accepted his hand, and they began to move together in unison. He swore he heard a faint slow duet playing somewhere in a language he didn’t speak, but from where he didn’t know. There weren’t a set of speakers anywhere to be seen. Past the rink was just more endless black floor. 

“Yuuri.” He brought his attention back to him after they twirled around together once. “While I won’t lie to you and tell you I’m not glad to have you here, please believe me when I say I never meant for this to happen so soon. I wanted you to have a full and happy life first. I always did.” He bit down on his lip hard. It looked painful. He winced as Victor turned away.

 _Oh._ So Victor hadn’t realized he could hear everything when he’d been ‘unconscious.’ Yuuri brought a hand up to caress the side of his face and turn it toward him. “I know. You’ve never acted otherwise. Besides, I heard you and Yurio talking.”

“You heard…?” Victor processed that, and Yuuri took the opportunity to dip him. He was blushing on the way back up, and it took him a moment to remember he’d been talking. “Oh. Oh! Please don’t be mad at Yurio. Yuuri, please. He did what he thought was best. For both of us.”

He felt warm as Victor pulled him in closer. _Strange._ Victor had never felt so warm to him before. 

“I’m not. I’m not mad at him I mean. I’m actually grateful. It was terrible being like that, Victor. And, I mean, wow, what a way to go, if I had to choose. I certainly won’t be forgotten for a long time that’s for sure.” Victor briefly lifted him into the air, and Yuuri closed his eyes. He felt free. “Besides, I had a reservation to make anyway, remember?” They’d stopped skating now and were just standing on the ice wrapped in each other’s arms. He pulled himself out a bit so he could look at him face to face. He was beautiful. God, Victor was beautiful. 

“Can I…?” Victor started, but he didn't let him finish. They were on an ice rink, and Yuuri was always more confident on a rink. Yes, that was the excuse he would use.

Yuuri took his face into his hand and pressed their lips together. Unlike their first time, when Yuuri’d been ‘unconscious,’ it was sloppy and passionate and _real_. He could feel Victor melt into it. Yuuri followed suit. He’d never kissed anyone like this before; there were so many sparks he felt he was going to pass out. Evidently, it took a full ten seconds for Victor to remember he could move. When he did, Yuuri felt a pair of hands rubbing at his back and pulling him closer. As they did so, Yuuri parted his lips to deepen the kiss. Victor audibly moaned. Yuuri felt warm again. Since when was Victor so very warm? After they pulled apart, Yuuri found himself smiling.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but I’ve wanted to do that for a long time now.” He told him.

Victor let out a small laugh. “I promise, the feeling’s mutual.” He ran his fingers through Yuuri’s hair before going on. It felt nice. “Yuuri I’m...I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner. I was angry, and then I was scared, and then I was selfish, and then…” 

He cut him off. They didn’t need to talk about this right now. “Victor. It was in the past. We were both a little selfish. Well, maybe you were more so, but...” 

Their eyes met once more. Victor’s were wide and worried, searching for any sign of resentfulness. When he found none, he laughed. Yuuri joined in. They held onto each other and shook together from laughter. When that finally died down, Victor pressed a firm kiss to the top of Yuuri’s forehead and sighed blissfully.

“So what happens next?” Yuuri asked.

Victor’s face faltered for a moment, but he recovered and went on as if Yuuri hadn’t noticed. He had. He wrapped an arm around Yuuri’s waist and guided him toward the rink exit.

“Yuuri, you’ll love the place souls go to. Well, I think you will. I don’t visit there that often, but you can see your parents and stuff. I think you can see your dog too? I don’t know, like I said I rarely go there, but if not then I’ll find him for you, okay? I promise, you’ll love it.”

“Victor.” He tried to cut in. He didn’t want to go yet. He’d just gotten here. 

“I haven’t had a complaint yet. Ha.” Victor was ignoring him. 

“Victor.” He tore himself free and stopped right before the exit. Victor stopped walking as well. “Do I have to go?”

Victor’s facade broke. His face fell, and he started fidgeting with his sleeve. “Yuuri, you’re dead. I...we...I can’t send you back this time. You’re already gone.”

He smiled at him. He’d already known that. That wasn’t what he was asking. “I meant, do I have to go to wherever you were trying to lead me to. Could I not stay here with you instead?”

He’d expected him to immediately say yes. Instead, he froze for a second before he continued playing with his sleeve. “Yuuri, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. If you stay here, you’ll become one of my assistants and have to...I don’t think you should stay here. You’ll become exactly like me. I’d never ask that of you.”

He reached out and took Victor’s hand in his. He finally stopped fidgeting with his clothes. “You don’t have to ask, I’m offering it.” 

He furrowed his brow in confusion. “Yuuri...you’re offering to…Why?” 

He didn’t think he’d really had to ask that question. He tugged at his hand and pulled him back into the rink with him. Once more he took his face in his hand and pressed their lips together. Yuuri didn’t think he could ever tire of this, not even if they had all the time in the world.

“I love you.” He began after they pulled apart. “I love you so much it hurts, Victor. Would it really be so bad to become like you?” He asked. 

“I love you too, you know that, but I’m not so sure.” He admitted. “I want to say yes it would be, not many people are too fond of Death, but you’re making me believe otherwise.” Victor linked both of their hands together and began swinging them to and fro.

“I think it’s just too few people get the chance to understand you.” Yuuri said. Victor blew his bangs out of his eye and smiled softly at him. “Would it really be so bad? Think of what it would mean. You’d never be alone again. We’d never be alone again, I mean. Victor, say we can stay like this forever.”

He let out a small laugh. “Wow, Yuuri. We just had our first real kiss not moments ago.” He brought one of Yuuri’s hands he’d been swinging back and forth to his lips and kissed it. “That sounded like a marriage proposal.”

Yuuri blushed. They’d just made out for what must have been a couple minutes straight, and only now he was blushing. He didn’t deny anything though. He simply returned Victor’s soft smile.

“Well, okay then. If that’s what you want, if that’s what you really want, then you know I will give it to you. Yuuri, I would give my entire kingdom to you if you but asked.” Victor was giddy. It was his turn now to initiate, and he was impatient to do so. He started small and planted several pecks on the back of Yuuri’s hand. He then traveled up his arm until they were finally, again, really kissing. It was gentle and warm and Yuuri couldn’t help but squeeze Victor closer to him.

“Now what?” He asked when they stopped to look at each other. Victor’s pupils were blown, his hair a mess, and it took him a moment to be composed enough to answer. He guided Yuuri off the rink and onto the endless black floor. Yuuri held his hand. He knew he’d never get lost like that.

“You’d mentioned once a long time ago you wanted to travel the world.” He waited and let Yuuri recall that. He remembered. He was always fond of that memory, the time Victor had spared him. “Would you still like that? I could take you places no human has ever been before. But I guess since you won’t be human anymore, it won’t change that fact.”

“I’d like that. I think I’d like that very much.” He paused. “Maybe not right away though. We have a while, right? There was actually something else I had in mind first.”

Victor gave a reassuring squeeze to their linked hands. “Anything, love.”

“I think I’d like to go back to skating, in the real world, I mean. It could be fun. I know, obviously, I can't really go back, but how do you think Yurio would feel about getting two new coaches? I know he’s fine with who he has now, but I heard there’s two new ones available who would do it for free, and they have all the time in the world, and then some. They’re pretty decent skaters too, from what I’ve heard.”

Victor seemed to decide hand to hand contact was not enough anymore and wrapped an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. Yuuri agreed. He leaned into him and wrapped one around his waist. He didn’t want even a centimeter of space to separate them. 

“I don’t know. Why don’t we go ask him?” Victor sighed contently next to him as they stood side by side wrapped together on the endless black floor. The rink was no longer visible, but that was okay. He had an amazing guide, and he knew he’d never get them lost. Victor knew the way; it was his own kingdom. No, it was their kingdom. Yuuri kissed the crook of Victor’s neck and received a small shiver in return. He beamed. It was so warm, and with that, they departed together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp now my secrets out. I just wanted Victor and Yuuri to be happy together literally forever. Only an epilogue left which I'm going to use to make this ending Happier.
> 
>  
> 
> As always I love comments messages etc if you feel like it.
> 
> [tumblr](http://cgcoconutgun.tumblr.com) If you want that.


	9. Schlussapplaus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the beginning as Yurio finishes his story.

It’s dark out. Yurio can barely make out the table he’s sitting at. There’s no lamp anywhere near him, that he can tell. He squints to make out what’s in front of him, only to be met by a black abyss. _Oh, they’ve stopped yelling at me. I guess this means they’re satisfied for now._ There aren’t really any voices. He knows this. There never were. There never are. No one alive truly knows the terrible, horrible thing he did. Death himself had made sure of that. He tries to stand up, but someone places a gentle hand on his shoulder sitting him back down.

“Yurio, it’s far too dark in here.” _Oh._ It’s the old man. He doesn't know why he's surprised. He'd known he's still in here too. “You’re going to trip and fall if you walk around your room like this. Here, let me.” Death hops down off the table and flicks the light switch on the wall.

Yurio lets his eyes adjust. Oh right, he’s in his bedroom at his grandpa’s house. He wiggles around in his chair. A couple books fall off his desk and onto the floor. He stands to pick them up; he’s free to do so now. There’s nothing chaining him down. There never is. 

“Not that I don’t love listening to how beautiful, wonderful Yuuri and I met,” Death chimes in making his way back over to the desk, “But are you ever going to tell me who you were talking to before I got here?” He takes off his gloves and shoves them into his dark blue coat pocket. The glimmer of a gold band on his right ring finger is now visible, reflecting the light from the ceiling lamp.

“No one. Bug off already. There’s no one here bothering me except you. I told you to stop showing up in my house unannounced.” He readjusts the fallen books until he feels they’re in the right spot again. After he’s finished, he sits himself down on the end of his bed near the desk and pulls out his phone.

Death sings his unknown tune quietly to himself in what sounds like Italian, and he fishes around in his pocket once more. He offers him a business card but sets it on the desk when he refuses to acknowledge it.

“Stop putting this off, Yurio. I’m serious. I told you to give her a call already.” Yurio avoids looking at him. He doesn’t need his pity. “Don’t make me drag Yuuri in on this as well.” He winces. If Katsudon finds out he's been avoiding this, he'll never hear the end of it, and he doesn't want to disappoint him like that either. “You know how strongly he feels about getting help with these sort of issues. He used to see her too, you know. She’s the one he got all his medications from, and she’s great at talking too, from what I’ve heard. I wouldn’t really know. She doesn’t really like me too much. Fear of Death and all. She's also still kind of mad I married her favorite client...”

"I'll do it for Katsudon." He relents and pockets the card, which satisfies the old man and makes him shut up. That is, until his stomach growls loudly.

“Oh, are you _that_ hungry? I can make you something!” A heart shaped smile fills his face as it lights up with an idea. “Have you ever had Yuuri’s Katsudon? It’s the best. He taught me how to..”

“I'm not eating anything you cook.” He stops him. “I don’t want to die.”

Death’s smile falters. “I’d never! Oh. You...have a very morbid sense of humor.” He plops down on the bed now, far closer than Yurio would like.

“Why don’t you go bother your husband?” He offers as a thinly veiled excuse to get him to leave. He has no sense of personal space. “I’m sure he’d actually make me something edible.” _And he’d actually want to talk to you right now._ He thinks but does not add.

Death sighs over-dramatically and drapes himself upside down over the side of the bed, one hand over his head. “ _I caaan’t._ He’s visiting his friends in Hasetsu right now, besides I had a couple of assignments around this area anyway.”

“Does he ever actually do his job?” He taunts as he swipes at his phone screen. “You let him off too easily. For King Consort of the damn underworld, he sure does take a lot of vacations.”

“Yurio!” He sits back up now. “Don’t be so rude. Yuuri works very hard every day, and he can visit whoever he wants as often as he wants. Oh, that reminds me. He wanted me to ask you if you could tell Phichit to get here a day early on Friday night before the final. Oh, and let him know he has to pick the movie they watch this time, and it can’t be a musical either.”

“Why can’t he tell him his damn self.” He puts down his phone. He isn’t doing much on it anyway, and it isn’t working as a distraction from the old man, since he never shuts up. “Why the hell do I even pay for you two to have a cell phone on my plan if you never use it.”

“Well, it’s not like we can sign up for our own, and Yuuri's old one got shut off. Plus, it's not our fault it always gets _looost._ ” He’s pouting now, like a toddler. “You try traveling all over the place and keeping track of a phone. We think Yuuri dropped it in Alaska while doing an assignment yesterday? I don’t know. Just tell Phichit, okay?”

“Fine.” He concedes. “I’ll tell him. But I’m not hanging out with you guys this time to translate. It’s always super fucking weird and awkward. Like at your wedding.” He shudders. “Just pass a piece of paper back and forth or hold hands the whole time or some shit. Can’t he see you both if there’s skin on skin contact?”

Death immediately starts whining about that not being fair, and how it takes too much energy, and it’s why he always wears gloves, and how they would do it for him, and how he’s ruining Yuuri’s social plans, and how he’s being a brat, and-

“Fine. Fucking fine. I’ll come and translate.” He ignores the way Death immediately perks up at this and the thousands of ‘thank yous’ that pour out of his mouth.

There’s a knock on the door, and both of them look up.

“Hey, Yuri?” It’s his grandpa. “I know it’s late, but I made pirozhki, do you want one?”

He hops off the bed and tosses his phone into his hoodie pocket. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

“Yurio!” The old man’s walking alongside him toward the door. “As your coach, I forbid you from eating those so close to a competition.” He scolds.

Yurio stops and glares at him. He gives in under the gaze.

“Okay, I forbid you from eating _too many_ so close to a competition.” He smiles reassuringly and holds out his arms for a hug.

“Yeah. Whatever.” _Ugh, I’m not going to hug him._ He moves to leave but quickly turns back and hugs him anyway before he can change his mind. “Later, Victor.” He calls and heads downstairs ignoring the squeal of excitement he hears coming from his room as he does.

* * *

“And we’re back with the annual Grand Prix Final. Up next will be last year’s winner, Yuri Plisetsky age eighteen of Russia. Plisetsky has changed a lot about the way he carries himself this season. In addition to taking on more tranquil, relaxed themes than we've seen him do in the past, Plisetsky is also apparently following in the footsteps of his late idol and self proclaimed inspiration, Yuuri Katsuki. This is mostly evident in the fact that Plisetsky has skated this entire season so far without either a coach or choreographer, which Katsuki was notorious for doing as well. He also…”

Yurio finishes re-tying his laces and gets off the bench he’d been using. _Stupid. That’s not true. No one can really skate like that and not suck. Well, almost no one can. I have both a coach and choreographer, and the idiots are actually amazing at it when they take things seriously..._

He looks around for his support team but wishes he hadn’t. Against the rink wall, the two morons are sucking each other’s faces as if the world will explode if they dare to stop. Katsudon’s leaning backward over the wall and pulling his husband down ontop of him. He’s not wearing gloves today, as a gold band on his right hand can be spotted flaring in the stadium lighting. It stands out in stark contrast to Death’s short silver hair, which is currently being forcefully tugged down upon. One of them starts moaning. The other joins suit short after. It’s when Katsudon starts thrusting his hips upward that Yurio finally decides they've done enough.

“Oi, you two are fucking gross.” He calls out making his way over. “Quit it with the public displays of affection. I don’t care how in love you are, or if you don’t think anyone can see you. There are children present.”

Victor pops up first. His eyes are dilated and his hair a tousled mess. He’s smiling and is far too dazed to respond. Yuuri gets up next, face flushed red. “Oh hi, Yurio. Good luck today. Remember what we talked about, save your stamina.” 

His husband giggles.

“You two are pathetic excuses for coaches.” Yurio scoffs. “I’m up next, and all you’re doing is sucking face.”

“Sucking face? What?” He hears from behind him in the stands. “Oh! Is Yuuri here now? Yurio, tell him I said hi! Oh, and tell him that I got his note, and if he doesn’t find his phone soon, I’ll kill him. Wait, you said _he_ can hear _me,_ right? Hi! Yuuri, hi! Yuuri! Take my hand, I wanna tell you something! Victor, you too!” Phichit is leaning over the railing waving frantically in the opposite direction Yuuri’s standing. Yuuri’s blush fails to fade. 

“We’ll work on it.” He assures Yurio and tosses a wadded up note from his pocket toward Phichit. It hits him in the face, and he starts waving in the right direction now. Yuuri reaches up and grabs onto Phichit’s hand. Victor removes a glove and does the same with the opposite one. Now able to see his two friends, Phichit's face lights up, and they all start blabbering together about absolutely nothing important.

_God, these idiots are going to be the death of me._ Yurio leaves them there and goes over to find the rink entrance. On his way there, he hears a call of ‘davai!’ and ‘ganba!’ from the kiss and cry area. Sure enough, the two infatuated idiots are now wearing matching heart shaped smiles and sitting on a bench waving and cheering for him with more enthusiasm than a kid in a candy store. Well, Victor is sitting on the bench. Yuuri is literally sitting on his lap, waving a dog shaped tissue box around. _Disgusting._

When his name is called, he steps onto the ice. It’s energizing. It always is. He smiles. He supposes he’s glad his friends are here. They need to see this. He’s going to break someone’s world record today, and he’s going to win, and this time it won’t be by default.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was happy enough. Thanks to literally anyone that checked this out. I honestly expected like 2 people to read this and all 2 people to hate it lol. Like really thanks so much esp to anyone that messaged me over on [tumblr](http://cgcoconutgun.tumblr.com) or commented here or kudo'd or whatever. It really made my day every time!


End file.
